My Firearm is My Friend
by Jay1892
Summary: After the 9/11 attack America isolates himself, refusing to make contact with others out of paranoia that they too might turn on him. No one has been able to get through to him or make him stop sleeping with a gun by his side, but can England save him?
1. An Ordinary Day Gone Horribly Wrong

**My Firearm is My Friend **

It started just like any other day. Any other normal clear and crisp September morning; bright and sunny with a cottony white clouds lazily floating about in the skies over head. Alfred decided to wake up a little late that morning seeing as how he didn't have any meetings to go to until late that afternoon. It was about eight o' clock by the time the personification of America finally decided to roll out of the fluffy and warm comfort of his bed. The large man swung his long legs over the side of the mattress; flinching a little when the soles of his feet came in contact with the cold hard wood floor of his bedroom. The ash blonde stretched his arms high above his head before letting the limbs flop back down limply to his sides.

The morning world seemed blurry and out of focus for a few seconds before America stretched over to his bedside table and retrieved Texas; placing the glasses on the edge of his nose where they belonged. With the world now clear to his blue eyes behind prescription lenses Alfred hauled himself off his bed; lazily scratching his well toned stomach while he shuffled out of his room and to the other side of his flat where the kitchen lay. After a long night of sleeping and not eating the seemingly bottomless pit of a man was starving.

It started as a little crick in his neck which Alfred just assumed was from sleeping in one of those weird, awkward, and sprawled out positions he usually slept in. The big man swiftly jerked his neck and felt a little relief as his vertebrae cracked comfortably. Alfred was feeling a bit too lazy to cook that morning so he decided one bowl of Fruit Loops, one bowl of Frosted Flakes, a bowl of Apple Jacks, and one more of Lucky Charms would be enough to hold him over until later. He happily hummed to himself- a near ironic "My Country Tis' of Thee"- as he opened the cabinet where he kept all of his favorite sugary morning cereals. His neck started to hurt a bit more as he poured himself a bowl of Fruit Loops first and added a splash of good old fashioned cold milk. He ignored it again assuming it would go away after a nice hot shower a bit of R and R on his balcony.

The American- not caring that he was still clad in only cowboy themed pajama bottoms- walked out onto his balcony overlooking the beautiful sky line of New York City. Even though it was still relatively early the city was already alive and bustling with the millions of people who inhabited it. Men and women heading off to jobs they both loved and hated. People riding the somewhat grimy subways to get from place to place or indulging themselves in a more expensive taxi ride. Children all happily sitting in school excited for learning (well okay that was a lie). Alfred felt alive and invigorated as the school kids recitation of the "Pledge Allegiance" filled his body with the love his people felt for their country; for him.

He flopped down into one of the deck chairs; kicking his feet up on the small table as he enjoyed the warmth of the morning sun on his skin and the small chill of the breeze. Fall would be coming soon. It left the American feeling a bit depressed since summer was his absolute favorite time of the year, but ever the optimist he just told himself that soon enough summer would be here again. Years seemed to fly by when you were a near immortal; a near immortal who happened to be just over three-hundred and twenty years old.

That was the cool part that came with being the personification of a country. You never died. Well not easily, hence the term _near_ immortal.

By the time Alfred had finished off his first bowl of fruity, loopy, sugary goodness his neck was bothering him more, spreading to his shoulder a bit. His head was also bothering him a little bit; but at the moment it was nothing more than a light throbbing in the back of his skull. Still ever the optimist Alfred brushed off the feelings covering it up with more food and a couple of Advil if need be.

Alfred threw his fourth and last finished bowl of cereal into the sink, deciding he would clean them up later or just leave it for his housekeeper. He couldn't remember if today was one of the days she came to clean up his house (well someone had to do it because if Alfred was left on his own to clean things definitely wouldn't go over very well). The American stretched a bit; rolling his shoulder and humming a sigh as he headed to the bathroom; it couldn't hurt to take one Advil. He retrieved one of the small red pills from the medicine cabinet before he shuffled back out the kitchen to get a glass of water to accompany it. Al threw the little pill towards the back of his throat, washing it down with a big gulp of cold water. He let out a refreshed sigh as the pill successfully made its way down without him choking on it.

Alfred stood there for a moment; just starring off into space and suddenly losing himself in some kind of other world. Something… something just didn't seem right that morning. Something didn't _feel_ right. In the back of his brain some kind of sense of impending doom was buzzing around like an agitated bee. "Calm yourself Al… nothing's wrong. You're fine, you're country's fine. Everything is all honky dory." He gave himself a little pep talk; assuring himself that the little bee buzzing around in his mind was just all made up. The ash blonde turned away from the sink; bringing the glass back up to his lips again and taking another long swig of the cold clear liquid. It was then when the first attack happened.

Alfred felt it in his chest. It felt like someone had taken a shining silver blade and gave him a quick sharp stab right in the heart. He gasped in pain and in shock; spewing out a mouthful of water onto the hard wood floor. The pain was quick and vanished within a few seconds so the American was left to stand there in confusion, wiping his mouth and wondering what on earth could've brought on that pain.

There was only one thing that could cause his body pain like that. War. There was no war; the world was relatively peaceful at the current moment. So why was his body aching as if his people were fighting.

The pain struck again, much more intense this time. Ripping through his chest and making him cry out; dropping his glass and letting it fall down to the earth where it would meet its end in pieces. Alfred clutched his chest; falling onto his knees and curling around himself. The pain did not go away this time, it stayed, burning and throbbing deep within his chest. He breathing became labored, sweat glistened on his sun kissed skin, his heart squeezed and palpitated. His left arm felt tingly and strange- like someone heavy was sitting on it- his neck and shoulder hurt and it was hard to breathe. Alfred couldn't deny it, but judging by the symptoms he could tell he was having a heart attack. The American knew he wouldn't die from it, but that didn't make the pain any less horrible.

There was only one thing that would bring his body this kind of illness…. Someone attacked his capital. Someone was attacking Washington D.C. But who? Who would dare attack him, the United States of America? He was one of the most powerful nations on earth; if he fell everyone fell. So why would someone….

He never got to finish his inner inquisition before the next attack took hold of him. His limbs started going weak, numb. It felt like a dentist had injected the entire left side of his body with all the Novocain in the world. He started to panic. What else could possibly go wrong? He was already having a heart attack and now he was on the brink of a stroke? What the hell was happening to him? Suddenly the back of his head completely split with horrible pain; ripping along the inside of his skull with great ferocity. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a mangled and slurred cry of agony.

Alfred rolled over onto his side, crying and screaming as the pain the wracked his body. He clutched his head and suddenly felt something thick and sticky coating his forehead and soaking into his locks of ash blonde hair. Trembling and weak he brought his hand down to inspect what the unknown substance was though he already had a pretty good idea. Sure enough when he brought his hand down his entire palm was covered in the dark sticky substance that was blood. Alfred was shaking uncontrollably as he brought his hand back up to his head to inspect where exactly the blood was gushing out from. His calloused fingers brushed against his forehead where the American soon found to very large gashes ripping across the delicate skin just under his hair line.

Alfred felt his vision going blurry, not only because he was on the brink of losing consciousness, but because he knew that right now his country was under attack. His people, his children were being attacked. It wasn't his sudden plummet in health that scared him it was the loss of his children that made his eyes blur up with tears. The salty droplets ran down his cheeks leaving wet streaks in their wakes. His people were being attacked and by judging from his current state it was happening right outside his door.

Alfred rolled onto his stomach and set his eyes on the glass door that led to his balcony. He had to see, he had to see what was happening. He had to know. Heart attack, stroke, and horrible gashes or not he had to see what was happening. The American's large body trembled, his breath came in short labored gasps, his body was weak and he could move. But despite all the pain he pushed way past the point of one-hundred percent and began to crawl in a pathetic manner to the glass door. He had to see. He had to see. After many long, grueling, and agonizing minutes Alfred made it to the door, but his will and body was starting to give out. He grabbed onto the doors handle with his one good arm, gritting his teeth and summoning all the strength he had left to haul himself up if only by a few inches to see through the balcony's railing and look at the city.

It was a pretty sight. It was horrifying.

Out in the distance he could see it. Huge, billowing, plumes or midnight colored smoke soared up into the sky painting it's once bright blue color over with darkness. Flames licking the sides of buildings with their burning red and orange toned tongues. People running through the streets away from the chaos all praying that their lives would be spared. Alfred could feel the edges of darkness creeping up along the corners of his vision; threatening to take him and pull him deep down into the bottomless depths of unconsciousness. He was going to pass out. He knew it. There was no way he could stop it. The sight of the Twin Towers burning and crumbling before him was almost too much for his weak body to bear.

In his mind he could hear screaming. So many wailing, agonizing cries as his people perished in the cross fire. He body felt like he was sitting on a bed of pins and needles with each and every person perished in the chaos. It was all too much for one man to bear.

Alfred let go of the door handle and collapsed back onto his side, much too weak to move and grab the telephone to call for help. His strength had been spent. He lye there motionless and barely breathing. Blurring vision scanning the room one last time as he felt himself fading away from reality. He glanced over at the calendar hung on the side of the fridge with a magnet- the magnet that was a picture of him and his good friend, Arthur, when they had traveled to Wild Wood together during the summer. Just under the picture he looked at the date; mentally installing into his brain.

September 11th, 2001.

This would be a day he would never forget.

**So yeah, new story. I was watching the movie "The Happening" and when the soldier dude said, "My Firearm is my friend, it will not leave me side" I got the idea for this fiction. It's USUK of course set right after the tragic day of 9/11. It's supposed to focus on the way America's behavior and attitude changes after the terrorist attack. It's supposed to show his paranoia and his fear of other nations. It's probably going to be super angsty so if that's not for you don't read because I think this is going to be a tear jerker. Well in any case reviews are very, very much so appreciated. There's nothing that makes me want to right more than hearing feedback from my readers. Thanks so much! :D **


	2. The Fear of Not Knowing

**My Firearm is My Friend **

No one really knew what America's current condition was. Not Japan, not France, not Germany, not even England- the person who was closet to Alfred- had no idea what kind of the state the personified nation was in. When Arthur had seen the attack report on the news early that September morning his blood ran ice cold in his veins. His lungs tightened so much in his chest that it hurt to take even the shallowest of breaths. The Briton's head spun and the whole world seemed to slow down in that one instant he saw the video footage of the twin towers falling prey the flames of explosions and people jumping from the dizzying heights of the buildings- choosing to fall to their deaths rather than be burned alive. Arthur's slim pale hands began to tremble causing the murky brown liquid in his tea cup to splash up over the rims of the porcelain object and fall to the floor where they would lay forgotten until they sank into the wood, causing water stains.

He brought the tea cup back onto its saucer and roughly placed it on the table. The Briton pushed his chair back with a loud screech before he unceremoniously rushed for the telephone in his state of panic. Arthur snatched the phone off the hook, dropping it once in his haste before he cursed and picked the electronic back up. His fingers quickly traced over the familiar numbers of Alfred's phone number. The Briton waited all too impatiently; tapping his foot and drumming his fingers on the granite counter tops of his kitchen.

After a few rings there was click from the other end of the line that sat all way across the Atlantic Ocean, "Hey! What's up?" Alfred's cheery voice echoed and Arthur's ear and made the Brit sigh heavily with relief.

"Oh Alfred, thank god. I was so worried about you. I just saw the attack on the telly and,"

"I'm not here right now so just leave your name and number I'll get back to soon, later!" Arthur's heart sank down into the deepest pits of his stomach as he realized it was only the answering machine and the bright ball of endless energy himself. Alfred not answering his phone only caused Arthur's fear and anxiety to sky rocket and his heart thump wildly in his chest. The Briton gave up on that line and decided to do the next best thing. Call Alfred's younger twin brother, Matthew.

Arthur's hands were trembling and he messed up a few times as he tried to remember the Canadian's phone number- he cursed to himself several times before finally he got it right. Patience was a virtue in Arthur's eyes, but it was also a horrible one to bear when you were as anxious as he was by this point in time. It took a few seconds before the other end of the line clicked and a shy nervous voice echoed into Arthur's ear. "H-hello? I'm sorry… but can we make this quick I'm very busy at the moment…"

"Matthew? It's Arthur."

"Oh, h-hi Arthur… um… I-I'm guessing you saw the stuff on the news, eh?" The Canadian's voice was heavy and grim as he inquired upon Arthur's knowledge of the situation.

"Unfortunately yes I did… um… y-you haven't spoken to Alfred at all… have you?" Arthur hung forward on his hopes even though he already knew that they were only going to be shattered.

"No… I haven't…. But it's chaos where I am right now. M-my country's airports are trying to take in as many American airplanes as we can since the New York air port is obviously out of commission…" The shy boy explained. Of course. The hope Arthur was standing on gave out from under him sending him back down into his silent despair. "You haven't heard from him, h-have you?" Matthew sounded hopeful though Arthur could tell he was also preparing himself for disappointment.

Arthur shook his head- not really remembering that Matthew couldn't see the motion. "No I haven't…. I tried calling his phone not but a minute ago and I got his voice mail…."

"Oh…" Was all that escaped the Canadian nation's lips. Both ends of the line were left heavy with silence for several moments. Not wanting to deal with the uncomfortable silence Matthew continued first, "I'm really w-worried about him…. I don't know what kind of effects the attacks took on his body, but judging the footage on TV… it can't be good…."

Arthur briefly remembered back to WWII and the London Blitz. The effects of Germany's bombs attack his country night after night had left the British nation barley hanging onto his last scraps of life. He shuddered at the phantom pains that squeezed within the depths of his chest as he recalled all the horrible memories of the ordeal. "No… no it can't…" Arthur wanted to fly, swim, run, walk, anything that would get him across the pond to New York and by Alfred's side it didn't matter how difficult it was he had to get there. Still… he couldn't just leave. For all he knew whoever it was that attacked America could be planning to attack his country as well. It was all just a dangerous waiting game filled with anxiety and paranoia.

"I know how you're feeling…" Matthew's voice interrupted the Briton's unending reel of darkened thoughts. "You want to see him, right?" Arthur pressed his lips together and took a shallow breath. "Believe me if I could be right next to him I would… he's my brother, Arthur. He means the world to me…. But right now I'm needed here, and even though it's against what I want I have to listen to my boss." The pain that lined the shy Canadian's voice was obvious enough. He was feeling just as awful as Arthur was.

Arthur licked his dry lips and took in another shaky breath before slowly replying, "Yes… I suppose you're right…. Please… if you hear anything, call me immediately… promise me."

"… I promise."

Brief words of farewell were exchanged the British and Canadian nations before the lines went dead and left empty and silent. Arthur quietly placed the telephone back on the receiver. He shuffled ever so slowly back into the living room where his trembling legs barely managed to hold him up long enough until he collapsed back down into his chair where his afternoon tea was now left abandoned to go cold. The Briton leaned forwards, placing his elbows on his knees and burying his face deep into his pale skinned hands. He drew in shaky breath before slowly exhaling through pursed lips as he struggled to fight of the tears. He only prayed that where ever Alfred lay at the moment that he was safe and well taken care of since crossing the Atlantic Ocean was not an option.

The next day Arthur was left hot and itchy in his traditional guard uniform of thick red and black cloth. The enormous bear fur hat on his head made the Briton's scalp sweat and his bangs stick to his forehead- the gold locks blocking his green eyed gaze. The British nation dared not brush the hair from his eyes as he was meant to look sharp and stay in perfect time as he marched at the head of the Royal Guards fleet- rapier held stiffly in one arm. Arthur and the fleet of uniform synchronized guards marched together into the front Garden of Buckingham palace where hundreds upon hundreds of British citizens were pressed up against the gates with stoic and tear streaked faces.

Arthur came to a halt, snapping his free arm to his side and standing still as a stone statue. As captain he drew in deep breath and shouted his command, "Full company present arms!" The regiment obeyed his command, snapping to present their rifles in perfect time together. Within a few moments and after a couple more commands the Royal Marching Band began to play a tune that Arthur knew all too well.

The Star Spangled banner rung proud and true in the heart of the country that America had broke away from nearly two and a half centuries ago. It was a good thing years of being a part of the Guard had conditioned Arthur to remain stoic and expressionless even though on the inside his heart was collapsing into a black hole of nothingness and despair. There was still no information on Alfred's current condition and it was tearing the Briton up inside. He had no idea whether his best friend was alive and well or hanging over the edge of death. Not knowing was what scared Arthur the most.

Still here he was standing with the guard as they paid tribute to Britain's former colony and honored America in what must've been his darkest hour.

_ "If nations are people and national anthems are their lullabies then here was mother England singing to her grieving American child."_

Arthur's queen gave a small laugh as she brought her favorite porcelain teacup to her lips, "Whoever said that line truly has no idea how right they are." She daintily sipped her tea with the utmost poise and grace. Arthur sat on the chair across from her; a table of thinly sliced cucumber sandwiches, freshly baked scones still warm from the oven, and cakes and cookies of all assortments, all surrounded by small sliver cups filled with cool clotted cream and sweet fruit preserves. Usually the Queen had her afternoon tea with her friends and family, but after the ceremony in front of the palace she had requested that only Arthur accompany for the traditional British ritual.

Arthur enjoyed his tea time just as much as the next person, but today all he could do was stare blankly into the cup and back at his reflection on the rippling surface of the steaming liquid. He felt no urge to sip his tea with her and enjoy a scone- he only wanted to sit there and just stare into his cup.

The Queen brought her cup back down to its saucer- placing it on the plate with a barely audible _clink_. She sensed Arthur's distress and decided to act upon it, "You're very worried, Arthur. You would give anything to be over there, I can see it in your eyes."

Arthur slowly looked up at her and blinked once or twice before he responded, "No of course not your majesty. I am honored to be enjoying afternoon tea with you, and I'm sorry I haven't been very lively even though you so graciously offered me your invitation." If it was one thing Arthur knew how to do it was to hide his emotion and talk his way out of discussing them. "Please forgive me. Now what was it we were discussing earlier?" Arthur put his own worries and problems in the way back of his mind to the place where he usually kept them when they weren't need. The Briton reached for his tea cup and took a sip only to find that somehow his usual beverage of choice did not fancy his tastes.

"I'm not going to become annoyed with you because you have feelings, Arthur. Human, animal, or Nation, all living things have thoughts and feelings." She took another small sip of her tea. "So tell me Arthur, what exactly are you feeling right now; and don't you try to hide something from me."

Arthur was reluctant, more than reluctant. He never shared his feelings with anyone, but himself and occasionally with random strangers when he became drunk. "Well I…" He trailed of and hesitated once more.

"Please dear, do not be afraid of me. I am your friend first and your Queen second." She smiled gently as if she were a mother having a heart to heart with her child. To her, Arthur was just as much her child as she was his, as a nation that was.

"Well I… I'm very… a-afraid. I'm afraid because… well… I don't know…"

"You don't know what?"

"No, I literally don't know. I'm not sure if Alfred is alright and taken care of or if he's lying face down on his apartment floor…. Not knowing if he's alright… that's what terrifies me…."

The Queen took Arthur's thoughts into consideration and processed them before giving her well educated response. "I understand the idea of not knowing is very scary. I too wish I knew if Mr. Jones is well. I've only crossed paths with him on a few occasions, but he seems to be a very dear sweet boy." Arthur merely nodded his head in agreement; not really want to exaggerate on his feelings of Alfred.

"Despite what may have happened in our pasts… Alfred is still a dear friend to me. He may be stubborn, and insufferable, and incompetent and-." The Queen cut him off.

"I understand; he's difficult to handle." She laughed a little as she stopped Alfred from continuing to use every other word in the dictionary to describe the American nation.

"Oh, r-right… well… even though Alfred does have his faults and short comings he… he is very dear to me… and… I can't imagine life without that goofy looking grin of his."

"Sounds like you're in love," The Queen smiled coyly.

"I beg your pardon?" Arthur could feel the embarrassed blush spreading over his cheeks.

"Oh nothing, just thinking to myself out loud. But the bottom line in this situation is that you must get over to America and find Alfred and make sure he is alright." Arthur nodded his head in agreement. "Then it's settled. I hereby excuse you from any duties you may have and I shall have you flown off to America tomorrow morning."

Arthur nearly spilt his tea all over his lap. "E-excuse me? I'm sorry your Majesty, but I simply cannot do that. There is much that I have to handle here. I- I have a meeting with the prime minister and one with parliament a-as well as guard duties. I also have a cat at home that I can't just leave to go on some sort of adventure a-and-!"

"Well alright, then I order you. Now don't worry about a thing, love. I will handle everything, you just get yourself all packed up and be ready tomorrow, I'll have a driver come and pick you up at your home." And with that statement it was said and done. Once the Queen had made her decision Arthur knew that the woman would not give up until Arthur himself gave up and gave in. So persistent she was.

Arthur only smiled the smallest of smiles and thanked his gracious queen.

_I'm coming for you, Alfred._

** So yeah, second chapter is pretty Arthur centric, but whatever. You'll see what happened to Alfred next chapter. So in any case please, please, please, pleeeaaase review. Hearing feedback from my readers means the world to me and help inspires me to write more. It's very greatly appreciated. Thank you lovies! 3 **


	3. The Truth of the Matter

**My Firearm is My Friend **

Arthur never thought a simple plane ride spent in the lap of luxury that was the first class cabin (Complete with his own personal telly, a spacious seat all to himself that came down into a bed, almost any meal his heart desired, and all the alcohol he could drink) could feel like spending seven hours trapped in a torture chamber. The personification of Great Britain was very grateful to his queen for getting him a ticket to America on such short notice- and in the first class cabin no less- but Arthur just desperately wished for the whole ordeal to be finished. The entire flight he just sat in his seat, nursing a glass of scotch on the rocks and looking out the window at the clouds underneath the plane while his growing despair slowly ate away at him. Fortunately his face did not betray him. Not a single flicker or sadness or melancholy showed in his expression. He just seemed like any other disinterested passenger who was trying to make time move faster just by staring at the clock even though he was falling apart internally. Arthur just slowly sipped his scotch and pleaded with whatever celestial being that may exist among the clouds with him that this torture would soon be over with.

When what seemed like several eternities had passed Arthur had successfully landed in the Philadelphia Air Port where he would take a taxi all the way to what was left of the battered and broken New York City. Yet again Arthur was put through another eternity of slow painful waiting. The cabbie gave a few pathetic attempts at trying to make small talk, but the Brit in the back seat was completely off in his own world and only responded with one word sentences or small grunts. The cabbie eventually got the hint that Arthur wasn't exactly the talkative type and willingly let the car fill with silence again.

When the taxi cab finally stopped an announced their arrival in the broken city Arthur finally believed his torture was over, but little did he knew it was only the end of the beginning. There was still a long road of suffering and anxiety to endure before the beginning of the end even started. The cab couldn't take Arthur directly into the city since it was in shambles so Arthur to walk quite a ways. The Brit- though he did not like walking long distances- just pulled his back pack over his shoulders and began the long trek to the city.

Even though New York City was not one of his cities, Arthur still felt heart broken when he was the state it was in. Arthur remembered the last time he had come to the great city. He and Alfred had gone and spent the day wandering around the bustling city, stopping in random stores and just enjoying the beautiful day. But now… the city that never slept was no more. Everything stood still and silent as if the cold shadowy hand of death had swooped down and quieted the city for good. It seemed to now be trapped in eternal sleep. Sure people were wandering around but they didn't really look like people. They looked like soldiers. Broken souls whose long endless days running on the battle field had turned them into lifeless beings only meant to follow orders. Many people were dirty, covered in soot, dust, and debris that rained down from the skies when the towers collapsed. Some were injured, battered, and bruised. Only loose gauze and bandages were haphazardly dressed around their wounds in the haste of the first aid squads to get to more serious cases.

Every person he passed had the eyes of the lost soldier. The soldier who's only wish in life was to return home. Home to the lives they knew and the lives they loved and took for granted. Arthur had seen this broken ghostly look in the eyes of his soldiers during the several wars he had lived through during his long two thousand years of life. Seeing it in these men, these women, even these children… it made Arthur's heart only split more.

The further into the depths of the city Arthur went the more and more useless he felt. Even though these people were not his own- they were not his children- he felt as though they were still something to him. Americans… the Americans had once been Arthur's children as well if only in the sense that they were "adopted." But still even if the days of when Arthur had owned this nation as nothing more than a simple colony he still felt like he owed them something. Like he had to help them even if it was only through a very small deed.

But alas… there was nothing the British nation could do. All he could do was look on with a heavy heart and continue on his trek to find the person he had traveled to this city of broken souls to find. Alfred was still somewhere in this city and Arthur knew exactly where he should look. Alfred's apartment. Arthur only hoped that when he got there he wouldn't find what he thought he would.

In the American sense of the expression, Arthur was thanking his lucky stars that he remembered Alfred kept a spare key taped to the top rim of the door frame (The scatterbrained American often forgot his keys inside the house and came up with this system so he would never be locked out again). It was bit of a struggle trying to reach the key since Arthur wasn't all tall as Alfred, but after a few tries of the standing on his tip toes the Briton managed to get the small metal object. Arthur was happy that the building was relatively far away from the site where the Twin Towers once stood so Alfred's apartment building wasn't really damaged save for broken windows here and there and chipped brick where bits of debris might have hit it. At least it wasn't destroyed….

Arthur shoved the key in the lock- stopping when the click sounded from within the depths of the knob- and shoved it open using the force of his shoulder. "Alfred!" He called out into the spacious apartment, but the Briton was only greeted back by the echo of his own accented voice. The house was empty. Arthur was relieved when he didn't find Alfred lying face down and lifeless in the middle of the floor, but what he found wasn't much better.

There was broken glass scattered everywhere from the several windows that had been shattered by the force of the Twin Tower's collapse. There was more glass by the sink where upon further inspection Arthur found was a glass; one that matched the set in Alfred's cabinets. Alright so glass… that was one thing. The next was much worse that a shattered window and a broken drinking glass. There was blood. Even though it had long since crusted and dried over the course of time that had passed it was still clearly visible and there was a lot of it. It was concentrated in a crusty puddle by the sink at first before a small trickling trail found its way over to the sliding glass door that led the balcony. The trail stopped just at the door before it once again concentrated into a large dried out puddle.

So he had been injured…. If Arthur could remember anything from the bombing raids of WWII it was that the places where the cities where attack were the places the injuries and sicknesses occurred in his body. When the bombing raids had been concentrated in London Arthur had suffered from several rather severe heart attacks. Of course he couldn't die from them no matter how many he had, but that didn't make the pain any less excruciating.

Since the attack had happened in New York Arthur judged it was Alfred's head where the injuries had been situated. He thought at first maybe the American nation had suffered from a stroke- he shuddered at the thought- but then with the blood on the floor he seemed like it was maybe just a head injury. A cut, a gash, something a lot less severe than a stroke. If Arthur remembered correctly a plane had also crashed just outside of Washington D.C. That was Alfred capital…. So if it was anything like how Arthur was in the 1930's that meant the young nation must've also suffered a minor heart attack. Arthur shuddered again at the thought.

Alfred… the boy who he had watched grow from a small lad – a lad who knew nothing of the world of politics, wealth, or lust and only enjoyed his life as he saw fit every day- to a grown man- a man who's country would become one the greatest and largest super powers the world had ever seen (well besides the British Empire… but that ended long ago). The idea of that boy lying on the floor covered in blood and suffering with a heart attack and severe head wounds… it brought Arthur towards his breaking point. The Briton wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up with façade. He wasn't sure how much longer he could condition himself to act silent and stoic before the damn exploded letting go all the tears he had been holding back during these last twenty four hours.

The answer was not long.

Alfred was clearly not at his apartment. There were dozens of hospitals all over the city and Alfred could've been brought to any one of them. Arthur decided to try the closet one first seeing as how with a case as severe as Alfred's paramedics would want to get him medical attention as quickly as possible. Luckily this was a relatively smart decision on Arthur's part, but trying to find a single patient in a giant hospital filled with extreme amounts of chaos would not be an easy task.

As soon as Arthur passed through the sliding doors of the hospital's front entrance he entered hell itself. Doctors in lab coats and nurses and scrubs were running around like chickens with their head cut clean off. Patients were sitting, or laying anywhere the doctors could find room. People groaning and moaning in pain with wounds dressed unceremoniously for the time being while the doctors took care of more critical patients. It was an awful sight to behold. It was times like this Arthur had used his long two years of life to learn a least a little bit of medical practice. You could only go so far with a bottle of antiseptic and a few rolls of bandages.

There was one nurse at the Nurses station; her dirty blonde hair askew and dark circles stood bold under her light eyes. It had obviously been a rough night in the hospital. She was scurrying from desk to desk, grabbing papers and quickly typing things into computers. Arthur felt terrible disturbing the already frantic girl, but he couldn't exactly going running around the hospital looking in every single room to find out which one held Alfred. The British nation hesitantly approached the desk and clear his throat, but the small girl didn't seem to even notice his existence. "Umm… e-excuse me?" Arthur called shyly. Once again he was ignored. "Excuse me?" He called a little louder. This time the nurse threw a glance in his direction.

"What? Can I help you?" She asked- annoyance trailing on the edges of her voice- as she continued to run between the desks gathering arm full's of papers.

"Um yes… I'm sorry to disturb you when you're so dreadfully busy, but I'm looking for someone who I believe was brought to this hospital." Arthur tried to remain as polite as possible even though her attitude wasn't to his liking (Still he could hardly blame the girl. She probably didn't sleep all night).

"Someone who you believe or know was brought here." She replied back, slightly snippy.

"W-Well I'm not sure… you see I flew over her from London to find this person and-!" She cut him off before he could finish.

"Look, I'm very sorry, but I am absolutely swamped with work right now and I can't go searching through the whole system for someone who might not even be here."

Arthur was slightly taken aback by her attitude towards him (If it wasn't against government rules Arthur would go off on a tangent to her about how he used the be the British Empire and that one fourth of the world used to be completely under his control. But alas nations had to keep their identities secret to common folk). Even if she had been having a rough time she should still be polite since she was a worker here. _Ugh… Americans…._ Arthur thought snottily to himself. "Look, please, I am desperate. I have traveled a long way to get here and all I am asking that you take not but a few minutes of your time to at least check so I can move on if he isn't here."

"I'm sorry. I'm very busy I can't help you right now, you're gonna have to wait or lea," Arthur stopped her as she passed the counter in front of him; gently grasping her shoulder but still hold her tightly enough so she stopped moving. She turned a light eyes glare to Arthur and was about to shout at him, but she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

_Time to turn on some of that good old English charm._ Arthur gave the most convincing desperate face he could even though he really didn't have to act since he was desperate. His emerald eyes glistened as he spoke making his voice smooth and even so it wouldn't crack with his growing distress, "Please," He said. "Just a few short minutes, that's all I ask of you. I must find out if this person is here otherwise I will be waiting here and wasting the precious time I could be using to find him."

The small nurse seemed guilty as she averted the Briton's intense liquid gem stare. She thought about for a few good moments before she nodded her head. "Alright… what's his name?"

Arthur smiled in thanks and let go of her shoulder as she moved to one of the computers. "Alfred F. Jones."

The small girl typed a few things in the computer; light eyes darting up and down the screen as she scanned for the name Arthur told her. The Briton himself hung on edge as he anxiously waited for an answer to his question. Was Alfred here or not? Within a few moments the nurses light eyes shined as if she had found what she was looking for but as her gaze traveled further on the screen her expression became grim and her pink lips pressed together in a hard line. "Uh… I think I found him… blonde hair? Blue eyes?" She inquired.

Arthur slowly nodded his head. _Please no… please no…._

"H-He's up on Jefferson 5…" Arthur breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that Alfred wasn't dead, but still the nurses expression kept him from celebrating too early.

"Jefferson 5… that's not a ICU unit, is it?" Arthur wasn't sure if he'd be able to take seeing Alfred in the ICU with more plugs than an electric company attached all over his muscular frame. The nurse fortunately shook her head. Arthur was almost afraid to ask, but of course curiosity took the best of him. "Then… i-if it's not an ICU unit then… what's so bad about it…?"

The nurse looked up him; her expression changed as if she had someone aged way beyond her years right in front of Arthur's eyes. Hey eyes were tried and sad and he hair still a mess, her face paler than it had been before. "No… it's not a ICU unit… it's a mental ward."

**Dun, dun DUUUUN. Sorry I'm evil and I leave people on cliff hangers a lot, but don't worry I won't make you wait too long. At most it'll be a few days before the next chapter comes out so no need to panic. In any case thank you to everyone who has reviewed and faved the story so far. All the love really does inspire my creativity so I thank you for that. **

**Buuuut… as always please leave a review. It's greatly appreciated and make me very happy :) **

**Thanks my lovies! 3 **


	4. Lost Trust

**My Firearm is My Friend**

Arthur felt the room sway under his feet. He felt his head slightly spin and make the colors of the room blend together like paint on a pallet. "I-I'm sorry…" He stuttered as he shook his head to cease the spinning. "Did you say… m-mental ward?" The small dirty blonde nurse just looked up at him from behind the counter and slowly nodded her head in confirmation. Mental ward…. What on earth had Alfred done to himself that he had been sent to a mental ward? No, Alfred wasn't crazy. Well sure the boy was just constantly dancing on the border between normality and having ADD- but he was by no means out of his mind.

Arthur muttered a brief word of thanks to the little nurse who watched worriedly as the Briton semi stumbled off in the direction the hallway signs told him to. There was no way Alfred was there because he was actually off his rocker. With the torrents of patients that flooded in the day before they probably ran out of room to put everybody and they had to just stick Alfred in one of the available rooms. Yeah that was it…. Or at least that's what Arthur kept forcing himself to believe as he traveled into the bowels of the hospital in his dazed state.

_Please… let this all be some kind of horrible dream. Someone tell me that I just got really hammered at the bar and this whole ordeal is just a result of inhumane amounts of alcohol consumption. _

Unfortunately reality would hit the Briton hard within the matter of a short time. It would not be a pleasant experience, but then again reality was a cruel one indeed.

The floor that was called "Jefferson 5" was a floor dedicated to the mentally impaired, unstable, and other people of the sort. The eeriness of the floor itself was enough to send shivers up and down Arthur's spine and cause goose bumps to rise up from under his pale skin. It was silent, almost as if the entire floor had been completely deserted and abandoned. The only thing that gave Arthur the signal that people were even still wandering these corridors was the occasional moan or shout echoing from within the depths of the walls. It made Arthur uneasy and made the Briton want to turn tail and return back to the comfort of his own home back in jolly old England, but there was no way he could do that. Not when he had made it this far in the game.

There was single nurse sitting at the nurse's station. A relatively tall and strong looking girl with long brown hair tied back in a slick pony tail with steely gray blue eyes. Arthur swallowed hard and took in a deep calming breath before he approached the desk; the nurse staring up at him with that steely glare as he did so. "Oh um… h-hello there… I um… I looking for a patient who I was told was up here." Arthur was almost embarrassed when he asked the girl for assistance. Had Arthur been on any other floor it wouldn't have bothered him one bit, but being here….

"Name?" Her voice was a bit husky when she spoke, but her tone wasn't a mean or hostile one.

"Alfred Jones…" Arthur replied.

The large girl set her gray eyes on the computer screen as she scanned the system for the name Arthur had given her. Déjà vu settled over Arthur as the nurse's eyes lit like she had found the given name, but they instantly darkened again when she gazed over at the column that held the young American's diagnosis. She turned her gaze up towards Arthur again, "Are you family?"

Family? Well no… Alfred and Arthur with no longer brothers if that bloody revolution had proven anything. Still all nations were connected to each other by a sort of family like bond and Alfred and Arthur were both apart of the breed that was nation so Arthur could stretch the truth just a little bit. "Yes… we're cousins."

The expression on her face only grew worse from then on. "Um… well… uh…" Her hesitation was great as she tried to find the right words to explain what exactly the situation was with Alfred. By this point in time Arthur really couldn't stand her beating around the bush. The Briton just wanted the facts clear and true without any sugar coating.

"Look, just please… just please tell me what's wrong with him. You don't have to make it sound any less horrible than it might be I… I just want to know." Arthur really hoped what she said wasn't actually horrible considering he was asking her for the bare details of Alfred's condition.

"Um… well… it's not something I can really explain to you, but Mr. Jones… I think you should just see him for yourself." The girl explained as she rose from the swivel chairs she had been perched upon and motioned for Arthur to follow her down one of the desolate corridors. Arthur hesitated for a brief moment before he followed the large girl; the light _click_-ing of his shoes and the _squeak_-ing of the girl's sneakers mixing together and filling the uneasy silence.

She led him down to the end of one of the hallways to a door that had the big plastic numbers '517' nailed to its lacquered surface. The nurse pulled out a large ring of keys from her pocket- all the metal surfaces clanging and ringing together as she scans them over and selects the correct one. The brunette roughly shoved the key into the door; turning it until the knob let out a light _click_ signifying that the lock has been released. "Try not to get to close to him…" She warned him quietly before she pressed her shoulder against the door and used the force of her weight and strength the push the heavy object open. Arthur swallowed thickly before he cautiously stepped forward into the room.

The room was nearly pitch black save for some sunlight that trickled through the cracks in the blinds and the light that flooded through the door from the hallway. Arthur's liquid emerald gaze slowly scanned the room as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he search for signs of Alfred. The room was a mess as well. One of the lamps had been knocked over onto its side- its beige shade now bent and askew. The night side table had also been knocked onto its side with the drawer roughly pulled from its place and left over turned close by- a few papers and books laying crinkled underneath it. The generic white sheets were scattered around the room laying in wrinkled heaps of rising hills and dipping valleys. Trays of food were also tossed onto the floor; a carton of orange juice laid half spilled along with a plate of over turned pancakes that were covered in sticky maple syrup and a few hash browns.

But still through all the chaos of the room there was one thing that really caught Arthur's attention and made his heart beat thickly in his ever constricting throat. The small metal framed bed had been dragged over from its previous spot by the nightstand to the corner where it sat propped up onto its side. The way the thing was positioned it looked like it was meant to be a barricade of some sort. "He's messed up the room again…" The nursed sighed heavily. "This is the third time this has happened since yesterday…."

Third? So this catastrophe had happened already twice before. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath and ventured into the room; maneuvering his way around the puddle of orange juice and the pool of maple syrup. "Alfred…" The Briton called into the darkness as he approached the bed barricade- it was the only place the American could be hiding in the small disheveled room. Arthur's call though, was only met by more eerie silence. Arthur swallowed again; forcing himself to breath deep and even as he came within only a few feet of the bed. "…Alfred…" The Briton hesitantly called again. This time Arthur wasn't meant by more silence, but by a small shuffling noise. Okay… so he was here at least. "Alfred." Arthur called once again; his voice much more even and confident this time around.

It was quiet again for a few moments before suddenly a shadowy figure shot up from behind the bed causing Arthur to gasp in shock and stumble backwards a bit. The Briton unluckily found himself colliding with the overturned nightstand drawer and he fell backwards flat down on his rump. He gave a low hiss as his tail bone throbbed for a few brief moments. "Who the hell are you! Get the fuck out of here!" That voice… it was so familiar yet it was so different at the same time. The pitch of it was right, but the hostile tone that clung to the edges was so alien to Arthur's ears.

Arthur turned his gaze upwards and met the gaze of the person he had come such a long way to find. Alfred stood behind the bed barricade. The American's sky blue eyes were wild and blood shot behind cracked and broken glasses; deep dark circles standing stark underneath them. His dark blonde hair was disheveled- much more so than normal. The stuck together in random clumps with dried crusty blood as the glue. Soiled white bandages were wrapped around his head with the end loose and frayed hanging down against the side of the American's face. Alfred's face was pale and not the same sun kissed tone it used to be; even his cheeks were now hollow and sunken in.

Arthur couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Alfred's face. It was so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The last time the Briton had laid eyes on the American it had been only few days before the attack. Alfred's face had been beaming, bright, and vibrant. It had been the face of a young man who was just completely overjoyed with the simple fact that he was living; that he existed. Now… Arthur hardly knew who his broken person was. It was almost like Alfred had aged over four thousand years in the brief amount of time he and Arthur were apart.

The sight of Alfred like that… it made Arthur's heart squeeze and throb with sharp pangs

of pain deep within his chest.

Alfred stood towering above the fallen Arthur. He was dressed in nothing, but a pair of ripped washed out jeans, the dog tags he had been wearing since WWII, and a small silver cross on a thin chain. Arthur cowered back a few inches when he turned a cross eyes gaze to the end of a gun that was aimed directly in between his deep green eyes. "Whoa… A-Alfred… calm down… it's me… A-Arthur…" Arthur said quietly as he held his hands up in surrender to the American who was clearly in control. It wasn't like a bullet wound would kill Arthur, but that didn't make it hurt any less. The Briton was quite sure he didn't want to return home to his country with a bullet wound.

Alfred's stance slackened only a little bit before he instantly snapped back into position and held his aim straight. "You mean England…." England… dear lord how many years had it been since Alfred had addressed Arthur by his country name? The sound of Alfred's voice calling him by his country name… it only made Arthur's chest ache worse as memories of the revolution flooded back to his mind. "What the hell do you want? Did you come here to kill me?"

Arthur swallowed and drew in a shaky breath. "Kill you? No of course not Alfred-!" Arthur's explanation was cut off short by Alfred.

"It's America to you!" The young nation shouted fiercely.

Arthur resisted the urge to flinch at the younger man's sharp tone, but he took a deep calming breath and forced his voice to be smooth and even. "Okay… America…" It almost pained the older nation to say it. "Listen, I'm not here to hurt you… I saw what happened on the news and I came over to see if you were alright…."

"Alright? Alright?" His laugh was hysterical and sarcastic. "Do I look fucking alright to you? My fucking country was mercilessly attacked yesterday! It gave me a fucking heart attack AND a stroke not to mention these two absolutely lovely gashes on my forehead!" So Arthur's suspicions were confirmed. It was just as Arthur had thought back in the apartment.

"… I understand that you've suffered… believe me. When the Blitz happened during WWII I went through the same thing…"

"I don't give a damn about the fucking Blitz! What I do give a damn about is that thousands of my people- my CHILDREN- were killed; MURDERED! Then you just come waltzing in here like you know me, like you're my friend!"

"B-but Alfr- uh… America… we are f-friends… remember." Arthur could feel his cheeks dusting in a light coating of blush when he announced their relationship out loud. Sure the Briton knew that he and Alfred were close friends, but he had always been too stubborn to admit that to the American. "You're my… f-friend…"

"Yeah, and so was Iraq but look at where I am now because of him."

That statement was like a verbal slap to the face. Arthur could almost feel the force stinging fresh on his cheek.

"You're gonna leave… and you're gonna leave right now…" Alfred growled as he gnashed his teeth together and brought his lips down into a deep scowl; a sight the British nation had almost never seen on his usually happy and innocent face. "I don't trust anyone. Not France, not Canada, not Japan, and not YOU!" This time Arthur could definitely feel the sting of the slap on his face even though he knew that Alfred hadn't Arthur physically hurt him. Still the emotional blow the Briton was dealt was enough to make it feel like physical pain. "Now get out of here! I don't wanna ever see your godamn face in my country ever again!"

Arthur felt like he had sunken deep down in the very pits of hell itself as he slowly got up and slunk out of the room leaving Alfred to his own devices. The American nation sunk back down into his world of insanity clutching his gun close to his chest as if it was his life line and rocking and back and forth as he chanted and old military motto as if his very life depended on the action. "My firearm is my friend… it will not leave my side…. My firearm is my friend… it will not leave my side…"

The nurse watched helplessly as Arthur left the room in a complete daze. The brunette pulled the door shut behind the British nation and locked it again so the crazed American inside couldn't get out and harm anyone unnecessarily.

Arthur stumbled down the hallway a few feet where he was met by a dead end of bleak white walls. The Briton could feel himself losing it. That composure he had prided himself on was quickly vanishing into the stifling air around him. The British nation put himself into one of the corners where the drab walls met so he could hide his face from the brunette nurse who watched his actions with a worried gaze. Arthur balled his pale hands into tight fists before he pounded them against the surface of the wall with great force. He ground his teeth together and squeezed his stinging eyes shut as his legs went week and limp under him and causing the Brit to collapse onto his knees. The old nation double over himself; burying his face in trembling hands. His shoulders shook and quaked as silent sobs ripped from his chest and came out a strangled gasps of despair and agony.

His heart was being crushed to pieces; one tiny bit agonizing bit at a time.

***sob* Oh dear god what have I done…. **

**In any case I did say it was going to be an angsty story. **

**Please review, it's greatly appreciated. **

**Thanks lovies. **


	5. A New Approach

**My Firearm is My Friend **

Arthur sat in one of the stiff uncomfortable hospital chairs; face buried in his hands as he wallowed in a pool of his own misery. Everything that had just happened, finding out about the attack itself… wandering around the broken New York…. Finding about Alfred's condition… the intense verbal beating he had received from Alfred, his best friend…. All of these horrible things occurring so close together… it was almost too much for Arthur's heart to bear. The Briton wanted to vanish. Just silently slip of the face of the planet without anyone noticing that way he could just float alone in space without anyone to bother or hurt him again. If blonde man could've sunken down into the floor of the hospital and disappear he surely would've by this point.

Suddenly a white Styrofoam cup was held near his face; the warmth from the steaming liquid inside radiating through the thin material. When Arthur's bleary eyed gaze turned upwards the tall brunette nurse- who had early introduced herself as Sarah- was standing in front of him; expression sympathetic and worried as she held the cup out for him to take. "I brought you some tea… I figured you'd like it more than coffee…" Well that least that was slightly a light spot in Arthur's day. He mumbled a small word of thanks as he took the cup and cradled it between his hands. The scrub clad girl took a seat down next to him; the smell of coffee beans wafting up with the steam from the cup she held. She took the opportunity to think of what to say by taking a sip of her beverage.

Arthur sat quietly; just staring down at his own pathetic reflection in the rippling surface of his drink. What he wouldn't give to have that liquid be high proof whisky instead of dull old tea. Sarah clear her throat a little as she brought her cup down from her lips, hesitating a moment before she spoke, "I um… I'm really sorry about your friend…"

"Can't be helped… his country has endured a lot in these last couple of days. I should have known someone like him wouldn't be able to handle this kind of attack. He's still such a young country…" Alfred hadn't even been his own independent nation for 1/8 of what Arthur had been. Alfred was only over two-hundred and twenty while Arthur was just over two thousand. Alfred hadn't seen half the things Arthur had seen during his life time. It was only natural something this intense would cause the young nation to lose himself a little.

Sarah seemed a bit confused as to why Arthur was referring to Alfred as a country when the boy was clearly a normal human; well… in her eyes at least. Arthur sigh heavily and closed his eyes for a moment as he thought. It was a bit late now. He was about to let this girl in on one of the world's largest secrets. "Sarah… do you believe in immortality?" He asked plainly.

The brunette looked a bit confused. "Immortality? Well… no, there's no physically possible way people can live forever…"

"And what of _near_ immortality?" She shook her head slowly. Oh what this girl didn't know. "Listen Sarah… I'm going to let you in on one of the world's most well kept secrets, but whatever you do you must _never_ not _ever_ for the remainder of your life ever utter what I am about to explain to you to anyone else, do you understand this?" Arthur made sure he made his voice stern and demanding. The Briton wanted the girl to understand that there would be horrible hell to pay if this information was freely leaked out into the rest of the world.

She seemed slightly afraid but her steely eyes glistened with natural curiosity. After a few moments of hesitation the brunette eventually nodded her head in confirmation. Arthur drew in a deep breath. "Alfred and I are of a different kind of person. We do indeed look like regular humans and have the same wants, needs and…urges, that people like you experience. The only thing that is different about us is the way our bodies react to injury and age."

She still seemed like she was slightly confused as Arthur explained, but she didn't really question him, but the look in her eyes told the Briton she wanted to. It looked she was nearly questioning his own sanity- contemplating whether or not she should inform someone about his outrageous ideas. "…Then… who are you? I mean who are you really?" She questioned skeptically.

Arthur turned his sharp green gaze to meet hers; his expression stern and professional. "I am Sir Arthur Kirkland, loyal follower and knight under the reign of the royal family and her majesty Queen Elizabeth. I am the personification of the Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, formerly the formidable British Empire and the territory of Britannia."

Arthur sounded so regal and refined when he spoke his full and complete title out loud. It was not something he did often seeing as how it was a rather long one. "I am a near immortal and I have walked this earth for over two thousand years. Alfred and I are part of the breed the governments like to call 'Nation.'"

Her eyes were wide, but Arthur was having a hard time deciding if her wide gaze was out of surprise for this sudden knowledge she was receiving or because she was thinking that Arthur was completely off his rocker. "Now understand, I know this sounds like nothing but a load of rubbish, but I assure you what I say is one-hundred percent truth." Arthur assured the still skeptic looking girl. "With our kind whatever calamities befall our nation befall us as well in the form of sickness of injury. In the early 1940's- not long after the dawn of World War Two- German Luftwaffe ships brutally attacked London night after night with high explosive bombs. In our kind the capital of our nations are our hearts. When London was attacked I suffered several severe heart attacks as well as some cuts and scaring on my chest." Arthur could feel the phantom pain of the sensation throbbing in his chest as he recalled the memories he would give anything to forget.

"You also see this with Alfred. He is the personification if the United States of America and as such his body has suffered from the damages the country received yesterday. One plane crashed in Washington D.C. therefore he suffered a heart attack. One plane crashed here in New York- his head- therefore he suffered a stroke. The Twin Towers collapsed into a pile of rubble therefore he has two cuts along his forehead. If you aren't convinced by that there are other scars he has that have been sustained from damages to the country. World War Two, the bombing of Pearl Harbor; he has a scar along the length of his pinky finger. The Civil War, the separation of the North and the South; he as a long thin scar around his waist line. If you ever manage to get close enough to Alfred you would be able to see them."

Sarah looked like she was coming around a bit. Obviously this was way too much information for Arthur to just make up off the top of his head. Something about it had to be true. "So… are there others… y'know b-besides you and Mr. Jones?" She inquired curiously.

"Of course. Name me any country and I can tell you a bit out its personification."

She thought about it for a moment. "Italy?"

"Feliciano Vargas. Not the brightest blub in the box. He's positively terrified of me then surrenders and begs for his life nearly every time I approach him. He loves pasta, soccer, and pretty women." After being stuck with these people for as long as he had Arthur had learned quite a lot about the other nations.

"Russia?"

"Ivan Braginski. He's completely psychotic if you ask me. He's large and intimidating and always as a creepy smile on his face while he runs around asking every person he meets to become one with him. Not to mention if you tick him off he'll come after you with a bloody lead pipe. He loves Vodka, sunflowers, and bullying Latvia."

"France?" Oh there was a thing or two (or a thousand) that Arthur could say about France and they were all not very 'friendly' things.

"Francis Bonnefoy. A complete and total wino bastard who will try and flirt or have sex with practically anything that moves. He's flamboyant and overly flashy, but he's also a weakling with hardly any military victories. I've beaten his sorry arse several times in the past. He loves wine, roses, and flirting." Arthur held himself back on the insults seeing as how he didn't want to end up prattling endlessly about his less than cordial relationship with the French nation. "Any other nations you wish to know about our am I finished?"

The girl stared at him for a few seconds. "N-no… I'm good…" She stared off into space for awhile; suddenly finding a crack in one of the floor tiles all interesting. Arthur waited patiently as Sarah took her time and let all of the new found information sink in. Arthur didn't blame her for being skeptical or being confused; this wasn't the kind of thing someone learned every day. The existence of personified nations was indeed a difficult pill to swallow. "So… how do I know you're not lying? How do I know that you're not like how Mr. Jones is? Do you have some kind of proof?"

Arthur gave it some thought. He really didn't have much proof. Anyone could say they were a personified nation just for the hell of it; it was unusual, but it could make a complicated practical joke. Then he remembered some of the pictures he had of himself from over the years- all of them tucked in those little photo pockets in his wallet. "One moment," The Briton fished through his bag until he came across the old leather wallet that looked like it was nearly as old as he was (he had always meant to get a new one, but he never got around to it). He opened the wallet and went to the beginning of the sleeves of pictures. "Let's see this first one is me in uniform during the First World War…" He flipped to the next page. "Alfred and I back in the early twenties, _before_ he got terribly sick with the Great Depression… told that bloody git to get rid of the credit cards…" Arthur flipped to the next page. "Me in uniform during the Second World War," Arthur flipped again. "Winston Churchill and myself from a short time after the London Blitz…" He flipped again. "Winston Churchill, Harry Truman, Alfred, and myself at one of the allied powers meetings…"

He flipped again, but this time when he did he felt a blush creep up from his cheeks and up to the tip of his ears. "W-well uh… I uh… s-surprisingly enough that it… that is me from the uh, 70's with um… J-Johnny Rotten, back stage at a… s-sex pistols concert." The photo was a little um… crude (what with both men flashing the camera sinister grins and middle fingers standing fully erect) and Arthur certainly look like himself now considering his clothes looked like they'd been through a wood chipper, piercings all over his ears and face, and green streaks coursing through his blonde hair. "I-It was very influential, punk rock but uh… but I don't engage in those kinds of things anymore…" Which was a complete lie seeing as how the Briton attended a punk rock concert only a few months ago.

He flipped to the last picture in the reel. "And uh… this is Alfred and I here in New York on New Year 's Eve 1999…" Arthur faintly smiled at the memory. The young nation had been so excited for the new millennia to arrive that he absolutely insisted that Arthur spend it with him in the fabulous city. Arthur remembered that excited sparkle that gleamed in Alfred's sky blues eyes as he watched the giant crystal ball ascend from the top of the Empire State Building. The American practically shouting the countdown numbers at the top of his lungs with his overflowing excitement.

Arthur feared he would never see that boy again….

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts and handed the wallet to Sarah so she could more closely examine the pictures. "Well uh that's my proof. As you've seen I haven't really changed much in the past several decades. I can also promise you they're not doctored photographs…." He sighed and stared off into the distance. "I still remember when they first came out with cameras… horrible bits of rubbish I thought the first time I saw one. Nothing like having an exquisite oil portrait done, but the sitting still for those several hours was rather tedious…"

Sarah examined the pictures a little more closely; flipping through the row of sleeves again. Arthur waited slightly impatiently as he sipped at his tea. "What was he like… y'know back then?"

"Who, love?"

"J-Johnny Rotten…" The look on her face said that secretly she was rabid Sex Pistols fan.

"He was one crazy man I'll tell you that much. The extent of everything that man did would take far too long to explain and might scar your poor mind for life." That man was one crazy son of a bitch, but Arthur wasn't going to go into details now. The Briton was a little pressed for time.

"Well…" she finally muttered as she handed Arthur his wallet back. "This is absolutely insane and sounds completely outrageous, but… something's telling me that I should believe you."

Whatever outside forces were sending those messages to Sarah, Arthur thanked them. What he told her was a completely outrageous and unrealistic sounding story, but it was indeed the truth. "So… what's happening to him… it's all because of what happened in the city yesterday…"

Arthur nodded his head; his expression grim. "I'm afraid so…" Arthur confirmed. "But tell me… how has he been acting since he came in yesterday?"

The brunette girl gazed off as she tried to recall. "Well the doctors say he's suffering from 'Paranoid Type- Schizophrenia.' It's a type of Schizophrenia that usually develops after a traumatic experience in which someone very close to that person has been hurt or killed. The sufferer become very paranoid and thinks anyone and everyone is trying to harm those they're close to…"

"So in Alfred's case he's so terrified that someone's going to attack his country again that he won't trust anyone- not even me and I'm the one that practically raised him." _Bloody bastard…. If something like this happened to me I would still trust him…. Maybe… maybe we're not as close as I thought we were…_

Sarah's voice interrupted Arthur's thoughts. "Mr. Jones won't let anyone near him. Every single time we get near him he pulls that gun out again and threatens to kill us..."

"Well why in the bloody hell did you let him keep a gun? Knock him up with sedatives and take it from him."

"Oh don't worry we did. Well we took the bullets out anyway; the gun somehow makes him feel more secure so we didn't want to take it away entirely. He hasn't figured out the bullets are gone though…"

"There will be hell to pay when he does."

"Yeah… but I guess it's best to let him feel as comfortable as he can for as long as we can make it possible. It'll help jump start the healing process."

Arthur nodded his head I understanding. He'd have to dig up some acting skills so he actually seemed afraid when Alfred held that gun to his head. Of course he'd have to venture back into the room eventually. Alfred might have said some very cruel and hurtful things to Arthur but it was because he was sick and the Briton didn't blame him for that. Arthur was not going to give up on Alfred.

"Anyway… all he does his barricade himself in that room. Every time someone tries to clean it Mr. Jones just messes it up again. He won't eat either- if the spilled breakfast on the floor didn't show you that. "If Mr. Jones doesn't eat soon he's going to get even more sick than he already is…" Well that was actually scary. Alfred not wanting to eat was like the world ending. The young American used to stuff himself practically every single day with all the Mc Donald's hamburgers he could eat. It was a sickening sight to watch really….

Wait a tick. "I know something you don't; something that will get Alfred to eat." Arthur sounded excited as his brain suddenly hatched a brilliant idea.

Sometimes Arthur believed he knew Alfred better than the young nation even knew himself and if Arthur knew anything he knew anything there was one thing in this world Alfred couldn't resist- sick or not.

**Sorry, not a very exciting chapter. A lot of looooong explanations and stuff, but bear with me. Next chapter will have more contact between Arthur and Al- and depending on my mood we might have a break through… probably not… oh well. Please review; it's greatly appreciated! **

**Thanks Lovies! 3**


	6. Revelations

**My Firearm is My Friend**

A bleak ring echoed from the other end of the telephone line. Arthur waited impatiently, tapping his foot on the ground as he waited for that person to pick up. Arthur understood it must have been absolute chaos on his end of the line but Arthur was becoming frustrated with the fact he hadn't answered yet. "Come on… come on…" He muttered to himself as if somehow hoping his voice would travel north and tell him to pick up.

There was a small _click_. "H-hello..?"

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as Matthew's voice echoed from the other end of the line. "Oh thank the Queen you finally picked up…" The Briton breathed out.

"Arthur?" The Canadian boy replied back skeptically. "W-what's wrong? Did s-something happen?" The younger nation sounded panicked as he inquired what was wrong.

"No nothing's wrong… well nothing absolutely horrible… w-well it's still pretty bad, but it's nothing that can't be fixed." Arthur said confidently.

"Um… what is it though? Is it something to do with A-Alfred?" Matthew's voice trembled with anxiety as he asked his question. Arthur felt bad for the poor boy. His former colony always did have a very weak constitution even in those days so many, many years ago.

"Yes it is…. My Queen arranged for me to be transported to New York so I could look for Alfred and well…" Arthur hesitated as he tried to think of a way to word this in the softest way possible. He couldn't just very well come out and say 'Hey, your brother's lost his mind. He's in a mental ward and says he trusts absolutely no one not even you his own brother.' Saying something like that would probably cause the shy timid Canadian to have a mental break down.

"Arthur, please tell me. I don't want you to hide anything from me. All I want you to do is tell me what exactly is wrong with my brother." Arthur was shocked. For once in Mathew's relatively short existence (well compared to Arthur) the usually soft spoken boy sounded confident and demanding. Matthew was determined to find out what was wrong with his older sibling.

"Well… he's not well Matthew. Physically speaking it seems as though he's healed at a remarkable rate, but mentally…" Arthur trailed off again; biting his lower lip as he felt his eyes sting with tears. Recalling the scene that had played in the room earlier wasn't doing anything for Arthur in his now over emotional state.

Matthew didn't reply for a moment. "… What do you mean… mentally?"

Arthur sucked in a quick breath and willed himself to stay calm for the duration of the phone call. If he still felt like shit afterwards then maybe he'd seek refuge in a private place and allow himself to break down for a few moments. "By mentally I mean his emotional state. The nurses have told me what he's suffering from is called Paranoid Type Schizophrenia- or PTS. At this current time he thinks anyone and everyone is his enemy and they're trying to attack his country again. I went into his room and he refused to listen to me. He merely shouted at me until I finally had to leave…" Arthur could feel his chest and shoulders quiver, but he kept his voice smooth and calm. "At the moment he's barricaded himself in his room. He won't let anyone near him and he refuses to eat any food that they give him." If he didn't eat soon the poor sick boy was going to starve himself to death. "…He… he's a mess Matthew… He's all scratched up and bruised and he…"

Arthur felt a few traitor tears roll down his cheeks; his voice beginning to tremble as he lost his composure. "He… he looks so afraid and confused and there's nothing I can do because he refuses to let me help him. I can't take sitting here while I watch him slowly loose his mind and deteriorate away!" Arthur was on the brink of full out sobbing as more and more tears flowed freely down his cheeks. Arthur covered his mouth with his free hand and struggled to compose himself before he continued speaking. He could talk to Matthew while crying now could he? "I-I… I'm sorry I usually don't lose myself like this but I… oh this is so embarrassing…"

Matthew's end of the line was quiet for a few more moments. Not a single sound echoed into Arthur's ear and for a few seconds the Briton believed that somehow the connection between the phones had been lost. "Matthew?"

"I'm coming to New York." The Canadian nation instantly replied; his voice strong and confident.

"B-But Matthew, doesn't your country need you there right now? Please don't worry about Alfred; I'll find a way to get through to him…"

"No. I'm getting on the next flight and I don't give a damn what my boss says!" Arthur was almost positive that he had never once heard Matthew shout in the two centuries that he had known him. To be honest it actually kind of… scared the Briton a little. The island nation was sure he didn't want to be around when Matthew really got angry.

"Matthew I…"

"I don't care… I'm coming to New York- I'll walk if that's what it takes. Alfred is my brother, Arthur. We've grown up together, laughed together, cried together. I'm not about to let him suffer alone- no, not after everything we've been through."

Arthur hesitated for a few moments. He didn't think Matthew should come lest the timid boy suffer the same verbal abuse the Briton had. But still Arthur would only be a hypocrite if he told the Canadian nation not to come because he had duties to his country when Arthur himself had abandoned his own duties so he could find Alfred. Arthur finally exhaled a withheld sigh, "If that's what you want to do Matthew then I won't stop you." Arthur's tone grew grim, "But I warn you, when Alfred said he didn't trust anyone he meant it. He said he didn't trust me… and he didn't trust you."

Arthur could hear a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "… I still don't care… I'm gonna help make him better."

"Whatever you want Matthew, but still… just be prepared for what you're going to see. It's not a pleasant sight to behold." Arthur didn't mean to sound morbid or anything, but he just wanted to help Matthew understand the situation and prepare himself for it. Arthur wasn't prepared for what he was going to see and he suffered for it. Arthur and Matthew may have not been really related anymore, but still he was a dear boy and the Briton didn't want to see him get hurt.

"I understand, don't worry though, I can handle it."

"Right." Arthur nodded his head and agreed.

"Then I'll see you soon; take care of Al for me until then."

After exchanging brief words of goodbye the line went dead and Arthur hung the telephone back up on its receiver. "Bloody hell… this is all such a nightmare…" Arthur sighed to himself as he rolled his sore shoulder.

"Who were you talking to?" A voice inquired. Arthur turned his head to see the nurse, Sarah, approaching him.

"Oh, me? I was talking to Alfred's brother, Matthew." He explained.

"By brother do you mean…"

"By blood? Well technically speaking yes since they were once one complete nation."

"So does that mean he's a… y-you know…"She seemed reluctantly to say it as her steely gray eyes scanned to hall for any possible ease droppers.

"A nation? Yes he is. Matthew is the personification of Canada. He's a rather shy boy and has the visibility standards of oxygen." Arthur explained with a small laugh. Matthew had always been very easy to look over; now more than ever since he appeared to be standing in his older brother's shadow. Still that never bothered Matthew who seemed more than content to stand behind Alfred. "He'll be arriving sometime later today. He's going to fly in to see Alfred."

"Oh, well okay then." She agreed without any argument. "I got what you asked for by the way. I had to drive out of town to get to one that was open, but I got it."

"Brilliant, thank you so much. If there's one thing I know Alfred can't resist it's this."

What exactly was it that Alfred couldn't resist? Why it was the very heart attacks on a bun that his country had created so many years ago. Sarah handed Arthur a Mc Donald's bag- filled with three Big Macs, two orders of fries, and an order of chicken nuggets. _You're lucky Alfred… this is the only time I'll ever encourage you eating this filth…._ After nuking all the food and retrieving a super sized cup of ice cold Coca-Cola Arthur inhaled a deep breath and prepared himself to face Alfred again.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go in?" Sarah asked as she retrieved her key ring from the pocket of her scrubs. Alfred would most likely be less violent with her seeing how she was an American therefore one of his children.

"No, no I'm fine. Besides if he does get really violent no matter how many times he hurts me it won't kill me." Still Arthur would have rather liked to stay injury free if he could.

"Alright, but if Mr. Jones get's bad you have to get yourself out of there right away." She warned as she began unlocking the door. Arthur gave a curt nod in agreement as he waited for her to shove the door open. The Briton took a deep calming breath and stepped inside the room.

The place was still a mess; nothing had changed from the way it had been earlier. The furniture was still over turned, the pancakes and juice left on the floor, and the bed barricade still in place. Arthur steppe lightly; trying not to make much noise. Of course though Alfred and his super senses discovered Arthur's presence. The American shot up from behind his bed barricade; firearm extended and once again aimed at Arthur's head. Arthur was well aware that there were no bullets in that gun, but he had to make Alfred believe there still was. Arthur played the part and flinched back a little, holding his hands up in surrender still holding the Mc Donald's bag and the soda.

"What the hell are you doing back? I told you to get your sorry girly boy ass out of my country." If Alfred wasn't in this current condition Arthur would have hit him for that.

"I-I know but… I only want to help you Alfre- err, America."

Alfred stance didn't loosen and his piercing gaze didn't stop glaring right through Arthur. "Like hell you do! You're just here to lead me into a false sense of security- to trust you- and then you're gonna attack me too!" It broke Arthur's heart to hear Alfred say that to him, but he had to remain strong.

"I promise you, I'm not here to harm you in anyway. I am your ally America… I always have been and I always will." They may have fought a lot in the past, but right now Arthur was only focused on earning back Alfred's trust even if it was only a small fraction at a time.

"Yeah, that's what you said before the revolution. After that you started raising all my taxes and controlling me like I was your possession instead of your brother."

Arthur took in a sharp breath; it felt as if he'd been punched straight in the gut. That was a low blow even if Alfred was sick. Alfred new fully well how much the revolution had hurt Arthur and NEVER spoke about it in front of him. Arthur bit his lower lip and felt his eyes sting.

"You bloody bastard you know full well how much it hurts me when you mention that-!" Arthur let his temper slip and Alfred responded with full hostility.

"Shut the fuck up! I don't care about your godamn feelings! I'll say it as many times as I godamn please! Revolution! Revolution! Fucking revolution! I didn't want to be your stupid puppet anymore so I declared war and kicked your sorry ass to high hell; back to your king where you fucking belonged! You're mad because your empire fell apart after I broke away from you! Once all the assholes in Europe that hated you saw that even a newborn country like me could whoop your ass they all wanted in on the action and started kicking your ass too!"

Arthur wanted to scream. Arthur wanted to cry. He wanted to launch himself at Alfred and wring his hands around his thick neck, but he stopped himself. He remained perfectly calm- on the outside at least. "Whatever you want to believe Alfred." Arthur was a bit surprised by the ice in his tone, but he ignored it. "… I thought you might be hungry and sick of hospital food…" Well he never even ate it to being with. "I got you some Mc Donald's… I know it's your favorite so I thought I'd pick up some for you." Alfred eyed the bag in Arthur's hand for a few seconds, but quickly snapped his gaze back to Arthur to make it seem like the smell of burgers _wasn't_ distracting him. The Briton kneeled down and placed the bag on the floor along with the condensation covered cup of soda."I'll leave it here for you." His words were hollow and empty as he stood back up and shuffled out of the room again leaving Alfred to his solitude.

Sarah watched worriedly as Arthur slunk out from the room; his expression hollow and his eyes pained. "M-Mr. Kirkland?" She asked nervously.

"Please excuse me for a moment; I have to go clear my head." Arthur didn't look at her even once before he turned away from the room and continued to shuffle down the hallway. He'd like to allow himself that breakdown now if he could.

Arthur found a more secluded corridor of the hospital floor; stumbling into an empty room and shutting the door shut behind him. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be in here, but by this point he really didn't care. As he shut the door behind him Arthur leaned against the back of its wooden surface; feeling his legs go weak as he slid down to the tiled floor. He sniffled and bit his lower lip as he jerked his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. Arthur's shoulders quivered and his chest shook with silent sobs. "Bloody bastard… he knows how much that hurts me… he knows damn well…" Arthur whimpered to himself. The Alfred Arthur knew would never mention one of Arthur's most painful memories on purpose. The thought of Alfred glaring at the Briton with those icy eyes full of malice it only made Arthur's despair grow. That wasn't Alfred… that wasn't _his_ Alfred. That thing in room '517' was a monster. A horrible angry demon who's only goal and life was to cause pain and suffering to those who used to be closest to him. Arthur understood full well what happened to Alfred yesterday was traumatic, but… was it really _this_ bad? Was it really so bad that he lost all sense of himself and became a rage filled monster?

Where was the Alfred Arthur remembered? The idiot who used to sit at world summits stuffing his face full of hamburgers and rambling on about super heroes and improbable ways to solve global warming? The idiot who so loving teased Arthur? The idiot who would show up at the Briton's house completely unannounced and take him on some marvelous mini vacation just so they could get away from the issues of the world if only for a few hours? The idiot whose goofy grin that always made Arthur want to smile? The idiot whose loud contagious laugh that always made Arthur want to laugh?

The idiot who Arthur…. Arthur cut his thoughts short. Certainly not the idiot who he had fallen in love with. No Arthur was not in love with Alfred by any means. He was stupid and whiney and obnoxious and kind hearted… and childish in a cute way… and always had the best habit of cheering Arthur up when he needed it most and….

"No, I am not in love with Alfred. It's ridiculous and improbable. I'm here merely because he is a good friend and he requires my help. That's it nothing more." Arthur tried to convince himself. He wasn't in love… he would never say he's in love.

After a long while of sitting and enjoying the golden beauty of silence Arthur finally decided it would be best if headed back. Sarah would be starting to worry about him. Arthur sighed heavily and shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked back to the nurse's station where Sarah was sitting at her desk. "Oh, there you are Mr. Kirkland; I was starting to worry. Are you alright?" She asked politely.

"Yes I'm fine thank you. I just needed some time to think." He meekly explained. "Anything happen while I was away?" He inquired curiously.

"Actually yes," she said; her eyes lighting up as he asked. "I opened Alfred's door a little to see if he ate the food you left and I found this by the door." She held up and empty Mc Donald's bad that was crinkled and balled up.

Arthur almost felt relieved; but then he remembered how Alfred's last meal had ended up splattered all over the floor. "You… you didn't see it anywhere on the floor did you?" He questioned.

The tall brunette shook her head. "No, I looked around a little and I didn't see them anywhere. He must've taken them behind the bed with him."

Arthur breathed a long withheld sigh of relief. Finally Alfred had eaten something which would help him get his strength back up. But it wasn't just that factor that brought a smile to Arthur's face. If Alfred had taken the burgers he always so desperately loved that meant the old Alfred had to be hiding somewhere deep within the new one.

The single factor gave Arthur hope that he would see that goofy looking grin again soon.

**Alright so it was depressing, but happy at the same time. My heart always breaks when I make Alfred so mean to Arthur since USUK it my OTP 3 **

**Mattie will come in next chapter! :D **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks so much lovies! All you love really does inspire me! **


	7. The Brother's Face Off

**My Firearm is My Friend**

Arthur wasn't entire sure what time it was when the Briton found someone gently shaking his shoulder to make him stir from his slumber. The old nation grumbled- wanting nothing more than to roll back over in his bed and sleep for the rest of eternity. He was tired… so very tired. A few hours of uninterrupted sleep was all he asked for from this world yet he couldn't even have that. "Mnh… what is it?" He grumbled as he folded his forearm over his heavy green eyes.

"Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Williams is here…" Sarah's voice flooded the Briton's ears, but it wasn't her voice that slapped his self conscious awake, it was the name she uttered. Arthur sat up from lying against the stiff mattress of the hospital bed and he turned his gaze over to where the clock was quietly ticking away on the wall. _3:45 AM… couldn't he have come at a more reasonable hour?_ Arthur thought to himself as he exhaled a withheld sigh.

"Tell him I'll be there in a minute." The tall brunette girl gave a brisk nod before leaving the room and retreating back to the nurse's station where the Canadian nation was most likely waiting. Arthur stifled a yawn as he stretched his slender arms high above his head- letting his back crack comfortably as he tried to dismiss the stiffness of sleep. After long hours of waiting for some kind of response from Alfred (unsuccessfully of course) Arthur found himself nodding off from where he sat by the door marked '317.' Sarah, the current nurse working on the floor, had noticed as the Briton's heavy lids threatened to close and carry him down into the darkness of sleep. After spending those several hours on the plane from London, wandering around New York, and suffering two verbal beatings from Alfred- complete with emotional breakdowns- Arthur was left battered, bruised (mentally), and absolutely exhausted. The tall brunette Nurse offered the old island nation one of the empty to beds to sleep in until Alfred's brother had arrived from Canada.

Arthur had only finally fallen asleep around midnight so he hadn't gotten the decent night's sleep he was accustomed to getting. But soon the Briton willed himself to get off his lazy arse and swing his long slender legs over the side of the bed. The old nation slipped his socked feet into the comfort of his favorite pair of loafers and attempted to smooth the wrinkles in his clothes- he had brought no decent nightwear and was forced to sleep in the clothes he had arrived in earlier that day. He stifled another yawn as he decided to leave the sheets unmade- for once in his life- and instead shuffled out of the room to where Matthew would be waiting to meet with him.

Sure enough when Arthur rounded the corner he was met with the face that oh so very similar to the one he had come to know and love over the last two centuries. When you looked at Arthur and Alfred side by side you could hardly tell which was which save for their differences in hair style as well as eye color. Matthew was around the same height as his older brother, but with a more slender physique. His hair was the same ashen blonde but it was longer and wavy with a few strands arching up from his forehead and coming back down in a looped curl. The Canadian nation wore glasses just like Alfred, but his frames were round instead of rectangular. The glasses sat perfectly balanced on the end of his nose and created a small veil like feature over his soft violet eyes. The young nation was dressed in a red sweatshirt with a white maple leaf printed on the chest along with a pair of washed out jeans and converse sneakers.

They looked so very similar (which was why Matthew took the heat for the problems Alfred caused) and it almost broke Arthur's heart when he thought of the way Alfred used to smile before this catastrophe happened….

"A-Arthur," Matthew said as the Briton approached him.

"Matthew, it's very good to you again. It's indeed been awhile since the last G-20 hasn't it?" Arthur greeted the younger nation, holding out his hand politely for Matthew to shake.

Matthew took the Briton's hand timidly and gave it a brief shake. "Y-yes… I-it has been awhile, hasn't it? It's g-good to see you too…" Arthur was a bit surprised as the Canadian nation spoke further. On the phone the usually shy boy had sounded so strong and confident yet here he was again speaking in a voice barely above a whisper and stuttering nervously all the while. "S-So how's Alfred doing?" The Canadian inquired curiously.

"Well…" Arthur sighed heavily. "He really isn't any better than when I arrived earlier yesterday…. He still shouts at me every time I walk in the room and refuses to let anyone near him." Matthew's hopeful expression fell a little bit when he heard the grim news, but still Alfred's condition could hardly be helped. "The good news is he seemed to have eaten- fast gets him every time."

That hopeful gleam returned to the Canadian's soft violet eyes. "That sounds like the Alfred I know." A small smile graced the young boy's lips and that only caused Arthur's heart to split further into pieces. He looked… he looked so much like Alfred….

"Yes well… as long as he eats something." Arthur tried to hide his growing grief before he continued speaking. "He's still in his room right now- he's much too violent to be wandering the halls."

Matthew gave a brisk nod. "I understand, but violent or not I'd like to see him." That same commanding presence was starting to ring in the young nation's voice as soon as he began mentioning visitation with his brother.

Arthur exchanged a brief worried glance with Sarah who still sat at the swivel chair of her desk. "Well… I'm not sure about that quite yet Matthew…. It's very late and I don't know if Alfred's awake…" Arthur knew Alfred was still awake. He was probably still propped up against his bed barricade polishing that pistol of his to a shine and chanting the same phrase over and over again _My firearm is my friend… it will not leave me side…._

"I don't care. Arthur I just went through a panicked frenzy to get here as soon as I could and now that I'm here I want to see my brother." The shy boy's voice was now definitely demanding; an icy chill lying in the undertones.

Arthur exchanged another glance with Sarah who only gave the slightest of nods as if saying it was alright. The Briton released another one of his many sighs before he shoved his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants and turned his liquid emerald gaze to the Canadian in front of him. "Alright… I won't stop you, but I ask you listen to me first before you go barging into Alfred's room." The younger nation gave a brisk nod and chose to merely listen instead of reply. "First thing, he has a gun,"

"How in maple did he get a gun in a hospital?"

"I'm getting to that part, just listen to me," Arthur replied in annoyance before he continued from where he left _before_ he had been interrupted. "Alfred has a gun, but it isn't load. Now he doesn't know that- not yet. When you go in there to talk to him you have to act like you're afraid of the gun. If he finds out there actually aren't any bullets in that he'll probably lose it." They was Alfred was already… Arthur could barely imagine what Alfred would do if he found out…. "Now the second thing… Matthew… I am warning you… he's relentless. When you go in there he will not hesitate to take any open wounds you have and rub in as much salt as he possibly can…" Arthur's voice became strained as he explained Alfred's vicious verbal abuse and it forced the Briton to stop so he could compose himself.

Matthew hesitated a bit. Obviously seeing the pain expression that flashed over his former brother's face. "It was the revolution… wasn't it?" He inquired quietly.

Arthur worried his lower lip a bit, only giving the slightest of nods in response. "… When you go in there I only want you to be prepares for what he may say to you. Whatever he says, no matter how cruel, you _cannot_ lose your temper with him. If he feels threatened there's no telling what he'll do and you know how strong he is." Alfred's strength was barley under par with some kind of super hero (there had been one occasion when he had dragged Arthur's car around with him until he found the Briton and question and asked to borrow the keys). If that strength was unleash by a fully unstable American nation who knew what kind of injuries could be sustained. It was just one more thing Arthur rather not think about.

"I understand. Don't worry so much Arthur, it'll be fine. I'm going to go in there and get my brother back." Matthew was confident; standing tall and not slumped over for once in his life. Arthur smiled and nodded his head as he tried to sense of impending doom that formed in his stomach making him nauseous with anxiety. Somehow he thought this could not end well….

Arthur and Sarah led the young Canadian nation to the room marked '517.' Sarah unlocked the door and cautiously pushed the heavy slab open with the force of her shoulder. "Now remember the rules Matthew." Arthur reminded the blonde once more as he slowly stepped inside the room after Arthur. Matthew gave a brisk nod in understanding as he followed the Briton; soft violet eyes scanning around the disheveled and destroyed hospital room. Arthur narrowly avoided the somewhat decaying remnants of Alfred's breakfast still on the floor before he spoke, "Alfred…" No response. "Alfred… Matthew came to see you…"

The room still remained eerily silent which surprised Arthur. Usually by this point in time Alfred had already sprung up and began waving his gun around like a crazed idiot, but no…. Maybe he really was asleep. It was understandable since it was so late, but still Arthur was sure he'd be much too paranoid to sleep….

Matthew slowly began approaching the bed. "Matthew, get back here." Arthur hissed quietly as he tried to grab the sleeve of the Canadian's hoddie. Arthur was too late and already the young naïve nation was peering over the side of the bed barricade. This couldn't end well….

It didn't either.

Alfred had been waiting. Just sitting there silently behind the bed before some fool- in this case Matthew- to come up to the bed so he could sock him straight in the face. Alfred's fist had a very unpleasant meeting with Matthew's cheek and sent the Canadian flying backwards straight into the unsuspecting Arthur. The two men fell to the floor in a heap of flailing arms as Arthur's back uncomfortably meet with the hard tiled floor. Here he hadn't even done anything to upset Alfred and yet he had been hurt. Sarah let out a loud gasped and rushed into the room; hurrying to the hurt nation's sides and helping them up. Arthur was left unscathed except for a sore lower back while Matthew's cheek had already bruised and begun to swell; a trickle of scarlet colored blood trickling down his softly chin.

Alfred stood over the three; his eyes wide and wild and his face even more sunken and hollow than the last time Arthur had looked at him. He glared down at them intensely; holding his precious pistol out stretched from pin straight arms. "What the hell is this? You bringing in reinforcements, huh?" He shouted loudly.

"N-no Alfred of course no-!" Arthur began, but was promptly cut off.

"I told you already! You have no right to use my human name! You aren't my ally and you aren't my friend!"

T he Briton shrunk back a little and took in a sharp breath. No matter how many times he heard the American say that it still felt like a punch to the gut every time. "A-America please listen… Matthew merely wanted to see how you were doing. He wants to help you get through this ordeal-!" Everyone seemed to have a habit of interrupting the British nation today.

"No he's not! He's only here to watch me suffer and then attack me when I least expect it!"

"America please, that's not true and you know-!" But once again the older nation was cut short, but not by Alfred this time.

"Alfred! What is wrong with you!" It was Matthew who shouted this time. He injured boy had managed to haul himself up; wiping the blood away from his mouth as he faced Alfred head on. "Why did you punch me? I'm your brother for god's sake!"

"You ARE NOT my BROTHER! You're a sniveling little cry baby who only wants me gone just like everyone else in the world!"

Matthew shrunk back. Violet eyes wide behind his glasses that had been thrown askew when he had been hit. Soon though his expression darkened and an aura of anger filled the air around the usually soft boy. "Would you fucking get a hold of yourself? Do you even hear what you're saying!"

"Of course I know what I'm saying! I'm only telling you the truth and you know what since I'm in an honest mood I'll tell you some more true facts!" This was not good… this was not good at all. Here came the beating. The awful verbal abuse that was so horrid it felt like physical pain. Arthur didn't want Matthew to experience its pain as well, but there was no stopping Alfred now. "You're a cry baby! A whiny little bastard who's too shy and quiet to ever say anything and then gets upset because no one notices him! You're jealous of me- you've ALWAYS been jealous of me! You're mad because I went on to be one of the biggest super powers this world as ever seen while you just sat in my shadow!"

"Alfred you know that's not true! I've never been jealous of you, not ONCE!"

"The what was that during the revolution! The war of 1812? Why the you helping that mother fucker?" He shouted jabbing the gun over to where Arthur still sat awestruck in horror of the brother's battle. "You burned by fucking capital! Do you understand how much that fucking hurt me! I had burns on AND in my chest for MONTHS and I still have the scars if you haven't noticed!" It wasn't too noticeable, but the slightly darkened skin where burns had once laid fresh on his well toned, tan chest.

"I had to Alfred! I didn't get independence like you did! I was still a colony! You have no right to bring any of that up! You said you forgave me! You said it was all in the past!" Before long the Canadian's shrieked words became untranslatable as he began rattling off in his first language of French.

"Shut up! Just every SHUT THE HELL UP!" Alfred cocked the gun; his finger was firm on the trigger and for a that brief second Arthur completely forgot that the gun wasn't even loaded. He squeezed his eyes and cradled his head in his hands and screamed as loud as he could.

"Alfred no! Don't shoot!" The world felt like it was going black. Arthur felt like the universe was just hitting him with one thing after another. Almost as if it was tossing him around like a rag doll that had accidentally been thrown in the washing machine. He wanted it to end…. The last couple of days- no matter how short- had been some of the worst days of his life. He wasn't sure how much more of this cruel and unusual torture he could take.

But it only got worse from that point….

Alfred pulled the trigger and instead of being met with the loud bang of a shooting bullet Alfred's ears were met with the useless click of an empty gun. Arthur cracked opened his screwed tight eyes and looked up at Alfred- his sense of impending doom was growing. The young American's gaze was confused as he pulled the trigger again and again and again but was only met with the same useless click. His face became panicked stricken as he opened the barrel of the gun and discovered that every one of the little slots were left completely empty. "What the hell is this?"

This was not good… this was not good at all….

**Sorry another cliff hanger, but** **I had to. I wanted to give you guys at least a little something before the weekend since I'll be gone to the Otakon anime convention all weekend and I won't have my laptop me. But I promise once I get back I'll get right back into writing again. **

**Well in any case thanks for all the love and reviews guys! It really means a lot to me when I hear what you guys think of the story. You guys are my inspiration! So please review, it's great appreciated! **

**Thanks Lovies! **


	8. When the Healing Begins

**My Firearm is My Friend **

Oh no… oh no, no, no, no, no…. This was not good not good at all. Arthur, Matthew, and Sarah were all left as frozen as stone statues as they watched Alfred discover the unknown secret of his beloved pistol. The young nation's blue eyed gaze was wide as he stared into the barrel of the of the gun and found that it had been left empty and not by his doing. "What the hell is this?" He said in dismay as turned his blood shot eyes on the three on the other side of the room.

Arthur exchanged a brief worried glance with Sarah who looked just as concern and terrified as the Briton himself did. But Matthew- on the other hand- didn't even seem to be phased by this turn in events. Arthur couldn't help, but wonder to himself when the timid boy had grown so bold and brash. "What do you mean?" The Canadian inquired; obviously forgotten that Alfred didn't know the bullets had been removed.

"The bullets…. Where are the fucking bullets!" The look on his face grew dark and his eyes became more and more menacing.

"A-Alfred… let's not do anything rash, a-alright?" Arthur rose slowly from where he was sitting on the floor; holding his hands up in a calming gesture.

"No! Where the fuck are the bullets! Which one of you ass holes took them!" He shouted furiously; his anger growing with each passing second. Arthur slowly reached forward and grabbed Matthew by the hood of his sweatshirt then he began pulling him backwards towards the door and taking Sarah along with him.

"Alfred… let's calm down, alright? They only took the bullets because they didn't want you to hurt yourself…" Arthur kept his voice smooth and steady and kept all his movements slow as he tried to back out of the room with Sarah and Matthew before Alfred did anything he would later regret.

Alfred's breathing steadily became heavy- but not labored- as his anger increased and he tried to stop himself from breaking down into a pile of nothing right then and there. The young American gnashed his teeth together and gathered his dark blonde hair in his fists so tightly as if he had intended to pull out the frayed locks clean from his scalp. The other three in the room froze where they stood and exchanged worried glances. What on earth was he going to do? Lash out in anger or break down and cry? There was no telling when he was this mentally unstable.

Unfortunately it was the first of those options.

Alfred jumped over the side of his bed barricade and was quickly making his way across the small expanse of the room. Arthur could tell just by looking into the American's bloodshot gaze that he wasn't after Arthur or Matthew. Oh no he wasn't. He was after the person who took the bullets from his gun, the person who worked here. Arthur felt nauseous hit him as hard as a double-decker bus when he saw that Alfred's furious anger was going to be evoked on innocent Sarah. She was a tall girl and probably very tough from having to deal with the violent patients of the ward, but she was nowhere near strong enough to fend of someone as strong as Alfred. Arthur reacted quickly- adrenaline coursing through his veins and his heart pounding in his ears- as he grabbed the brunette's shoulder and began shoving her out the door. _Screw being a gentleman, this girl is going to be killed from a punch like that_. "Get out! Get out!" Arthur shouted as he pushed her out the door just barely grabbing Matthew and shoving him out as well.

It seemed they really didn't understand what had just happened as Arthur slammed the room door shut behind them leaving the Briton alone in the room with the crazed Alfred. Still stopping the furious American would probably be the equivalent of trying to stop a steam engine moving down the tracks at full speed. But Arthur was determined… he was going to get Alfred back even if that meant him being killed in the process. The slender Briton stood his ground; spacing his legs apart and making sure his stance was steady and stable as Alfred drew closer and closer. Arthur could not let him get though this door lest Sarah be critically injured.

British nation of heavy metal door didn't stop Alfred from trying to bust right through the both of them. The young American nation ran into Arthur full speed, ramming his fist square into the Briton's gut. Arthur took in a sharp breath and gasped wide eyed like a fish out of water as he struggled to regain his lost breath. "Get out of my way! I want my bullets back! She needs to pay!"

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and gripped onto Alfred's shoulders; placing one foot back against the door for leverage as he pushed the bigger American forward with all the strength he could muster. "A-Alfred… stop this…! It's not her fault!" Arthur grunted from between gritted teeth.

"Someone has to pay!" Alfred shouted in reply.

"But not her!" Arthur screamed. "She's one of you people for Christ's sake! One of you children!" Alfred pushed Arthur back causing the Briton to lose his leverage on the door and making the older nation's ankle twist in an awkward way. Arthur hissed in pain as the joint began to throb. It had obviously been sprained or at the very least twisted. In that moment of hesitation Alfred grabbed Arthur by the color of his button down shirt, hoisting the smaller man up off the ground and shoving him against the back of the door. Arthur winced as his head slammed against the thick metal slab and he could feel the pounding of Matthew and Sarah on the other side shouting to him.

"Arthur! Arthur are you okay?" Matthew's muffled cry made it through the door.

"I-I'm fine! Don't come in-!" Arthur was cut off short as Alfred roughly slammed him against the door again.

"Shut up! Don't say anything!" Alfred's grip tightened and that only caused Arthur's airways to constrict as the pressure of his shirt collar wrapped around his throat. "I don't give a damn who does just as long as it's somebody… someone has to pay!" Alfred was voice was becoming strained and tight as he continued to shout.

"But Alfred-!" Arthur was cut off short again as the cloth around his throat grew tighter and his airway constricted further.

"I need to blame someone! If I can't blame someone then the only one left to blame is me!" Arthur stopped his struggling and looked down at Alfred. The Briton was surprised to see the young American's eyes were glistening; crystal tears pooling at the corners of his endless blue gaze. "I don't want the responsibility- I can't handle it! I can't go on knowing that thousands of my children died because of me!" Arthur got it now. What Alfred had experienced was traumatic- and that was putting it lightly. Now Arthur understood that underneath the paranoia the younger nation suffered from there was also guilt; vast expanses worth of it. "I-It won't come off…" His voice had lowered down to a frequency hardly above a whisper and his head angled downwards causing his dirty ash blonde bangs to hang in his face.

"… What won't come off…?" Arthur inquired cautiously.

Alfred looked back up at Arthur; eyes still glistening but still wide and blood shot with dark circles running along the rims. "The blood… I-it won't come off my hands…" His voice began to tremble as he spoke in the same small and quiet tone. "No matter h-how many times I wash them… I-it won't come off…. It's all my fault… it's all my fault…"

Arthur pitied the young naïve nation. He felt pity because as horrible as this experience was there were still hundreds of worse things Alfred would probably have to face in his near immortal life. He felt sympathy because there had been many a time Arthur too had blamed himself for a national disaster that had befallen his country. The Briton also felt anger because he was outraged that Alfred would even think something like this was his fault. There was nothing Alfred could've done about since he didn't know about the awful plan until it was much too late to even do anything.

Arthur frowned down lightly at the younger nation, "C-come now love…. This isn't your fault. There's nothing you could have done about any of this…." Arthur tried to soothe despite the fact it was getting a little difficult to breathe.

That sad pitiful look suddenly left Alfred's eyes as the American grit his teeth. He released one hand from Arthur's shirt and balled it into a fist before bringing it back and nearly half heartedly decking the Briton across the face. Even thought Arthur knew that that wasn't even close to the power Alfred was capable of that didn't mean it wasn't a painful blow. Arthur's head slammed sideways against the back of the door and he could almost instantly feel his cheek begin to swell from the sheer force of the punch. "Shut up!" Alfred shouted. Before Arthur got a chance to recover from the first blow Alfred sent him another, but this time it was straight in the gut. A stomach full of hair exploded out from Arthur as Alfred's fist met his abdomen; the Briton barley let out a groan despite the fact he couldn't catch his breath. Alfred grabbed him again by the collar before he threw the Briton behind him and away from the door. "I don't need you to tell me anything!"

Arthur caved in around himself as he coughed and gasped in an attempt to regain his lost breath. Unfortunately though for the Briton there was no time to grovel over injuries because now with no obstacles between Alfred and the people behind the door the frazzled American was reaching for the door knob. "Bleeding fuck..." Arthur groaned as he forced himself up on his feet and hobbled over to Alfred despite the screaming pain in his ankle. "Alfred no!" Arthur shrieked as he launched himself onto the bigger man; snaking and coiling his arms around the ash blonde so it was more difficult for him to move.

"Get the fuck offa' me!" Alfred shouted furiously as he struggled to get Arthur off, but there was no way the older nation was giving up. He would only give up when he was dead.

"No! You have to stop this!" Arthur pleaded as he squeezed his eyes shut and only hoped he could hold the much larger American back until he managed to cool down. But at this point… Arthur was starting to worry if that would ever happen….

"I told you already! I don't need you to tell me anything!" Alfred shouted as he trashed like some kind of wild caged animal.

"Yes you do and I'm telling you that you have to stop this!" Arthur could feel his eyes stinging behind his tightly shut eyelids. "This isn't you Alfred! This! Isn't! You!" This wasn't Alfred… this wasn't Arthur's Alfred. The Alfred that Arthur loved would never dream of intentionally hurting the Briton whether it be emotionally or physically. Arthur just wanted the old Alfred back… that's all he wanted. He would've gladly given up everything he had and everything he was if it meant seeing that goofy lopsided grin once again.

Alfred slowed; his violent thrashing movements coming to a stop and his chest heaving as he fought for his lost breath. Arthur's word had clearly stuck a cord with the younger nation and left him unmoving. The island nation took the opportunity of stillness to try and talk Alfred down from the heights of his anger. "A-Alfred… p-please…" Arthur sucked in a sharp breath as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "Please… stop this. This fighting, this shouting, this anger… it's not who you are…" Arthur drew in another shaky breath and licked his dry lips before he continued. "I u-understand what happened was horrible… truly I know what you must be feeling is hell intensified a hundred times over but Alfred… that's why I'm here. That's why I flew all the way over here as fast as I could just so I could be with you and help you through this…."

Alfred had stopped moving completely, his chest hardly even moving with small shallow breaths. Arthur hesitated; testing the waters a bit before he continued talking. "A-Alfred… listen to me…. I understand what you are going through. I understand is tough, but you are never going to make it through any of this unless you let me help…" Arthur moved his arms so that they comfortably wrapped around Alfred's waist. "You have to learn to let go of your guilt otherwise you'll never be able to move on…" He'd always be stuck back in his apartment groveling in pain on the floor and watching the world crumble just outside his window.

Alfred was silent again. Eerily still as if he wasn't even alive. Arthur bit his lower lip as he worried over the younger nation's change in attitude. "Al… Alfred?" Arthur called quietly.

Suddenly Alfred yanked himself out of Arthur's grip and at first the Briton's heart sank to the deepest pit of his stomach as he realized that everything he had just said didn't even reach through Alfred's tick skull but for once the old nation was (somewhat) pleasantly surprised. Alfred turned to face Arthur before he flung his arms around him and nearly tackled him to the floor. But it wasn't a tackle meant to bring Arthur down it was nothing more than an over grown child's attempt to seek the protection and comfort he so desperately craved.

Alfred held Arthur so tightly in his arms it was as if the Briton was the American's only tie to this world. Alfred took in a sharp breath and breathed it out in a trembling whimper. Arthur stayed silent as Alfred did the same thing again only this time the fat tears that pooled in his endless blue eyes began to streak their way down his cheeks. Arthur was finding it difficult to breathe while stuck in Alfred's vice like grip and quite frankly it felt like his spine was going to crack in half, but that didn't matter to him. What did matter was the broken man that he loved sobbing before him like a hurt child.

Alfred took in another sharp breath before he opened his mouth wide and exhaled in a loud wail of despair. All the feelings he had been holding back these past few days were rushing forward like water from a broken dam. All the sadness, despair, and mourning he had been bottling up was open and his echoing cries sure showed it.

Battered, bloody, and bruised Arthur gently brought his arms around Alfred's large trembling frame. He lovingly shushed him; whispering sweet nothings and comforting words that really had no meaning at all. The Briton stroked his former colony's head softly as he tried to smooth down the frayed locks of ash blonde hair. The room was still and silent, as was the world that lay just outside the walls. They were only people that seemed to have escaped the sudden freeze of time and engage in an embrace that neither natural nor human disasters could ever destroy. Alfred sobbed loud cries of loss and mourning while Arthur offered his comfort.

The world began turning again as a certain young nation began to rise from the depth of his own insanity and he began to walk forward once again. The healing process at long last had begun.

**So that was pretty much the climax chapter of the entire story. There will most likely be another chapter and a prologue and then the story will be over. *sob* **

**Well in any case I hope you've all enjoyed the story so far. Reviews are greatly appreciated, I would really love it if this story could reach 100 reviews :D C'mon people help me out! **

**Thanks so much for your love and support lovies! It means a lot to me! **


	9. My Firearm is My Friend

A broken heart is never fully healed even if its scattered fragments are gathered and carefully glued back in place by the comfort and support of a loved one. Every injury, no matter how small, no matter if it be physical or emotional, always leaves traces. Still even if a broken heart can never be restored to a full one hundred percent that doesn't mean it's impossible to live with. The scars would remain risen from the flesh and the pain would return every so often, but anyone could overcome such obstacles as long as they had someone to fall back on. A pair of arms that were always open, ears that were always perked and ready to listen, and a shoulder that was always the perfect place to cry.

Broken hearts never heal, but love is the best medicine to ease the pain.

Arthur looked down at the young American nation with his large ash blonde head in the Briton's lap. The old nation's tired gaze was soft and caring as he stroked his former colony's hair. Arthur couldn't help, but smile to himself as he thought of how innocent Alfred looked whenever he slept. How his closed eyes and deep even breaths somehow gave him the appearance of being- once again- the tiny little boy Arthur had found wandering alone on the prairies of the new world. The sight of it nearly made Arthur forget the night's previous events- as if they were nothing more than a bad dream. _Alfred often used to fall asleep in my lap as a child…._ Arthur thought quietly to himself as he reminisced.

Hours had passed since the two English speaking nations had endured their less than painless break through. Alfred had sat clutching onto Arthur like a life line for more than a half an hour just sobbing and sobbing until his eyes were red and puffy and his throat burned raw with dryness. Throughout the American's entire state of mourning Arthur remained right by his side; offering comfort and support and nearly every way he possibly could. Even thought Arthur was sure he had sustained a sprained ankle, a few chipped teeth, not to mention a broken rib or two from Alfred's beating there was no way he was going to leave his best friend. In fact the Briton would have gladly taken a hundred more beatings if it meant Alfred finally breaking free from his paranoid state of mind.

After the long time spent crying like a child Alfred's obvious exhaustion began apparent as the young nation's head lobbed off to the side and he carried out a furious battle with his eye lids; willing them to stay open for just a little while longer. Arthur had broken away from him for a few seconds so he could turn the bed barricade back onto its legs where it belonged so Alfred would be more comfortable while he slept. The old Briton still refused to leave his former charge and before he knew it the boy had fallen fast asleep in his lap where they currently sat.

Arthur himself was starting to find it very difficult to keep his own eyes open as he watched Alfred sleep. The Briton hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in days and it was starting to take a toll on his body. He too found his head lobbing off to the side as he fought to keep his eyes open. He wanted to be there when Alfred woke just in case he needed a shoulder to cry on again….

"…You can sleep if you want…" Arthur snapped up from his half asleep state to realize that Alfred himself had woken up and was currently watching the Briton struggle for consciousness. Arthur gazed down at his former colony through bleary eyes and was happy to find Alfred's endless blue eyes were no longer lifeless with the monster of betrayal. Even though they were still shadowed with the monster of an imminent war Arthur was grateful they were not the same as they had been only a few short hours ago.

Arthur slowly shook his head and rubbed one eye with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to wake you when you were sleeping so peacefully." Arthur apologized.

Alfred looked away for a moment while he absent mindedly played with the silver cross that still hung around his neck. "S'okay…" He mumbled quietly.

Arthur breathed out a small sigh through his nose as he looked down at Alfred;_ He looks even younger when he doesn't wear his glasses…_. Arthur thought to himself. "… I had Sarah try and find some place to replace your glasses. I know it's difficult to see without them, but they were really messed up. You probably couldn't see any better with them if the lenses were all cracked." Arthur filled the silence with meaningless talk.

"Thanks…" Alfred's voice was quiet again as he dropped the cross he fiddled with and turned his gaze up to Arthur. "… You look kinda blurry… I can't see your face too clearly…." He mused as he absent mindedly reached up and touched the side of Arthur's face. The Briton flinched a little as the American's finger tips brushed the bruised and swollen place where Alfred had punched him earlier. Alfred continued to stare up at him and touch the side of his face gently as if he were trying to inspect the damage he had inflicted through the one sense alone. His blonde brows curved downward and his lips tugged down into a small sad frown. "I… I hurt you pretty bad… didn't I?" He inquired guiltily.

Arthur bit his lower lip as he hesitated, "No… it's not that bad, honestly." Arthur sugar coated it as best he could. The last thing he wanted to do was make Alfred feel even guiltier.

"Don't lie to me Arthur. I can still hear you. I can tell when you're not telling me the truth and I don't need glasses to do it."

Arthur hesitated again; unsure of how to respond to that. "W-well I… it's nothing I can't heal from." That wasn't a lie so Alfred really couldn't call him out on it. But still… some pain medication would have been nice.

Alfred furrowed his brows slightly before he gave up and let his hand fall back down against his still bare chest; once again moving to absent mindedly play with the little silver cross. The American closed his eyes and took and deep breath; exhaling with a light hum. "… This makes me feel like a kid again…" He mused.

Arthur smiled, "You'd always come running to me during a thunderstorm or when you read a ghost story begging me to let you sleep in my bed. Then you'd make me pat your head until you finally felt comfortable enough to drift off…" Arthur explained gently as he continued to stroke his former colony's dark blonde hair.

"Well of course I ran to you. You always made me feel safe… even now you still do…."

Arthur's heart squeezed in his chest and he was thankful Alfred's vision was impaired because a light blush had dusted across the Briton's cheeks. "D-don't say such silly things…" Arthur half heartedly shot back through his embarrassment.

"But it's true…" Alfred hummed as he sighed again. Alfred was quiet for a few more moments before he opened his eyes again and stared up into Arthur's with that endless blue gaze. "Arthur… why didn't you leave me…? I… I said such horrible things to you and… and hurt you so badly…. Just… just why? Why didn't you just leave me?" The young American asked; the pleading in his voice apparent and desperate.

Arthur felt his face grow hotter as Alfred stared up at him so intently; it force the Briton to nervously look away lest the blush spread all the way to the tips of his ears. "W-Well uh, A-Alfred I… uh… I stayed with you b-because…" He paused, biting his lower lip and weighing the pros and cons of confessing his ever present feelings for the American. _Because… because I love you, you git._ Arthur only thought as the words stuck thickly to his throat and refused to actually be spoken. "It's because… b-because you… you are my friend Alfred. I… I've watched you grow from a tiny little boy running around the prairies to the strong and powerful man you are now. I've seen you laugh… I've seen you cry… and despite the hardships we may have faced in the past I… I guess… I guess it's drawn me c-closer… to you…" Arthur spoke nervously and hesitantly as he was not a man who was able to easily convey his thoughts and feelings. Arthur wanted to continue, but found it difficult to find words to describe why it was exactly he refused to leave Alfred even though he treated the Briton like the dirt on the ground.

"… Is that it..?" Alfred inquired. "… It sounds like you want to say more…"

_Damn… why does he make me so flustered?_ "W-well I-I uh… I guess…. The first time I saw you yesterday… the way you looked… the way you acted it just… I-it just felt so… foreign. In the centuries I've know you there's hardly ever been a time when I haven't seen you without a smile on your face…. T-the way you were… I knew… I knew I couldn't leave you like that. I wanted to see the Alfred I knew… the Alfred I… the Alfred I…." Arthur trailed off as he felt the blush finally creep all the way to the tips of his ears. No matter how desperately the Briton wished the finish that sentence it was just impossible. Every time the word bubbled up from his vocal cords it would only become stuck in his throat or die on his tongue before it even had a chance to be spoken.

_Say it…. Say it…._ Arthur willed himself, but still to no avail.

"The Alfred you… love?" Alfred offered helpfully.

"Yes, that's the word. Thank you Alfred, and-!" Once Arthur realized what he had just admitted to he gasped and clapped one hand over his mouth. The Briton looked down at Alfred who only looked back up at him with a very familiar grin spread across his lips. It nearly made Arthur's heart stop before it made the organ swell in his chest.

"You love me?" He grinned.

"Wha, I-I-I n-no I do not l-l-l-lo… l-love y-you or anything. No, nope I don't. You're a git." Arthur sputtered oh so very intelligently as he tried desperately to (unsuccessfully) cover up his now painfully obvious infatuation with the American nation. Alfred just stared up at him with those expectant blue eyes; just waiting for Arthur to explain himself. "I… I… oh… alright…" Arthur swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. "Alfred I… I l-lo… lo… oh god dammit why can't I bloody say it…"

"Love?"

Arthur shot the American a look even though he knew in his vision impaired state the young nation couldn't even see it (old habits die hard). "Yes… that's it…. Alfred I… I love you… I guess… I-I have for a-a while now and… I… I didn't leave because… because you mean the world to me Alfred… you really do." Arthur really couldn't believe he was admitting it. He had been holding back those feelings for so long; always convincing himself that he and Alfred would never be together. Sure he and Alfred had always been relatively close throughout the entirety of their knowing each other. There were bumps and road blocks along the way, but what relationship didn't have those? Still Arthur always convinced himself that they weren't meant together. That the feelings he seemed to feel whenever Alfred was near him were just a part of some silly infatuation that happened to be lasting a century or two.

Alfred's happy grin died down into a sad smile as he continued to gaze up at Arthur; the guilt starting to haze those endless eyes. "Wow… I… I never knew you cared so much Artie…" He laughed dryly. "But… it makes me happy; y'know that you love me and all…. I know I'm really dense and stuff, but… I guess… I guess I love you too Arthur and I have for a long time." This time Arthur was sure his heart stop. The Briton never thought he would ever hear the American say that to him and it only caused his face the flush further.

"Well, I-I…" Arthur stuttered nervously as he tried to respond, but Alfred continued speaking before the Briton could say much else.

"I'm happy know that you love me, but it… it also makes me sad…" Arthur furrowed his brows and stared down at Alfred's face only to find the American's eyes were once again glistening with traitor tears. "It makes me sad… b-because… I've been so mean to you. I've said such awful things and beat you so badly when the only thing you were trying to do was help me." A few tears ran down the side of the American's face as his guilt only continued to grow. Alfred quickly reached up and swiped the back of his hand over his eyes to wipe away the salty droplets. "I-I know I don't deserve a-anything from you now… not after what I did, but… I didn't mean everything I did. I was… I was just so scared Arthur. I was so afraid and confused because I didn't know why any of this happened. It just hurt… it hurt so bad…" By this point Alfred's words were becoming muffled as he tried to finish his sentences only to be drowned out by his whimpering.

Arthur's heart squeezed in his chest as he gazed down at the broken man he loved. It made the Briton's heart break to see him so upset, but all he could do for now was offer comforting words and support while Alfred continued to heal. Arthur gripped Alfred's shoulders and guided him so that he sat up instead of lying against the Briton's lap. The older nation wrapped his arms around the young American's frame and held him close. "It's alright Alfred…" Arthur said soothingly. "I don't blame you for anything you did. You weren't yourself and that wasn't you fault. What happened to you and country was tragic and I would have thought you daft if it didn't affect you. There's no need to beat yourself up over what you did. What's done is done and we can't change that. The only thing we can do now if learn to forgive and learn to forget and I forgive you Alfred."

Alfred sniffled a few times and he once again wiped away a few tears with the back of his hand before he lifted his head and pressed his forehead to Arthur's causing the Briton's cheeks to burn bright red. Alfred smiled sadly again, "I guess you're right, but… I really am sorry for what I did Arthur…"

"It's all in the past, love. Forgive and forget, just like I said." Arthur soothed as he tried to hide his growing nervousness from the sudden close intimate contact.

Alfred gazed right into Arthur's green eyes; seeing the expanses of the endless English fields reflected in the glowing orbs. Arthur gazed right into Alfred's blue eyes; seeing the expanses of the endless cloudless skies above the western prairies reflected in them. Arthur pressed his lips together for a moment as he tried to figure out what exactly it was he supposed to do next. Alfred and Arthur had admitted their love for one another and had gotten over the day's earlier events. So what was there left to do?

"Can I kiss you?" Alfred asked innocently as he gazed intently into Arthur's eyes.

Arthur flinched a little at the question; nervously turning his gaze off to the side as his heart sped up in his chest. "W-well I-I… th-that is uh… I…"

Alfred didn't wait for answer even though he had been the one to ask the question. With or without Arthur's permission Alfred pressed his chin forward until his lips met with the older nation's. Arthur stiffened and his eyes were open wide as his face burned in a furious blush, but soon the Briton accepted the gesture; melting into the meeting of their lips.

Arthur had never quite experienced a kiss quite like this before. It was one that made the entire world around him disappear so that he was left only with Alfred. Nothing harmful was allowed into this little space of nothingness that their kiss had created. There was no fighting, no war, no malice, and no political struggles. All that was in this world was Alfred for Arthur and Arthur for Alfred. All things that had happened in those past few days melted away until Arthur couldn't even recall them ever existing. What a wonderful place was created when the two nations came together. If it was possible the Briton would have gladly remained in that little vacuum of time and space in which they seemed to be able to live peacefully, but of course it would have to come to an end eventually….

The two star crossed lovers pulled away from each other, but kept close enough so their foreheads remained touching. Alfred smiled and let out a small laugh, "I can feel the heat coming off your face; you must really be blushing."

"Oh belt up, git." Arthur insulted lovingly as he closed his eyes and willed himself to stop blushing like an embarrassed school girl who had just experience her first kiss.

Alfred only smiled and laughed a little before he let the two of them lap into a semi tense silence. Arthur knew what Alfred was feeling. It was the same feeling the Briton himself had experienced the same feeling decades ago in 1939 just before WWII had broken out. That burning feeling of imminent war stirring and churning in the very marrow of his bones. That uneasy feeling that symbolized the beginning of a new struggle to live another day.

Arthur felt it too for he knew what his place would be in this struggle.

"War is starting…" Alfred spoke quietly. "… I'll have to go off and fight soon…"

"I know…" Arthur breathed. "But I'm coming with you so there's no need to fret, love."

Alfred pulled away from Arthur so he seriously look the Briton in the eye without it just being a close contact cross eyed gaze. "What do you mean…?" He question curiously.

Arthur opened his eyes and stared over at Alfred. "… The feeling of oncoming war… I am feeling it too…" He explained as he absent mindedly placed a hand over his chest. "My people want to help. They want to help you exact your revenge for your fallen children." Arthur explained quietly.

Alfred smiled weakly in an attempt to wordlessly express his gratitude. War was no smiling matter and Arthur was the last person Alfred wanted to be hurt in the cross fire, but the American was thankful that he wouldn't be battling the monsters, demons, and darkness on his own. "… When in war your firearm is your friend…."

**Okay everybody that was the last full length chapter! *sob* I'm so sad it's over! Well actually there will still be a prologue, but this was the last real chapter. **

**So anyway, thanks so much for all the love and support you guys have given me throughout the course of this fanfiction. All your wonderful reviews and comments really made my day. Words cannot express how grateful I am to all of your wonderful readers! Thanks so much lovies, I couldn't have made it without you! **


	10. Epilogue

**September 11****th****, 2010.**

**New York City, USA. **

**Ground Zero. **

How many years has it been now…? Nine, yeah nine- that is if Alfred had counted correctly. Unbelievable. Nine sets of three hundred and sixty-four days had passed by in the blink of an eye that at the same time felt as slow as a dribble of molasses on an icy cold day. Alfred thought it was strange- the way time worked. Something centuries ago could feel like it happened yesterday while something that happened yesterday could feel like centuries ago.

Still Alfred F. Jones was still in the process of healing. Eternity and over wouldn't be enough time for him to heal fully, but still it got better as the days went by. The pain more bearable, but broken hearts never heal. A ghost of a smile crept up on the American's thin pink lips and a shadow of phantom pain clouded over in his sky blue eyes which really wasn't all that uncommon during this time of the year. Fatigue, loss of appetite, depression, disinterest in anything, and spontaneous bouts of crying were all things Arthur put under the category of Alfred's '9/11 sickness.'

"Alfred, you messed up your tie." Arthur's voice came with a small laugh to try and clear the tense atmosphere that had settles in the taxi where the couple now sat. Alfred's endless blue gaze shifted behind the lenses of his glasses until they came to a rest on his petite British lover. Arthur hadn't changed a bit in those past nine years. His soft golden hair was as unruly as ever in his eyes remained the same glimmering green that resembled the fields of the English country side. It was one of the things that brought the younger American nation during this time of the year. Alfred looked down under the rims of his glasses at his hands that had somehow managed to knot his silk red tie to resemble more of a pretzel than a Windsor knot.

"Whoops, guess I wasn't paying attention." The ash blonde tried to laugh off the action with a smile- on a little less bright than usual- in a failed attempt to hide his growing anxiety with the date on the calendar.

Arthur worried his lower lip for a second before he spoke, "Let me help, love." The Briton offered as he gingerly slid over from his spot in the taxi cab to give his American lover a little hand. The older nation's thin delicate hands worked expertly as he untied the pretzel like knot and redid the tie so that it was wrapped snug and proper around Alfred's neck. "There you are, pet." Arthur announced proudly, giving Al's cheek a quick affectionate rub as he slid back to his seat and admired his handiwork.

"Thanks…" Alfred quietly muttered as he leaned back in his seat and absent mindedly stared out the window at the thousands of fellow American citizens that had gathered in the heart of New York to honor the anniversary of that fateful September day. Arthur felt slightly uncomfortable in the tense atmosphere of the cab even though he was used to Alfred getting like this every year around this time. Still it wasn't as if the Briton blamed him for feeling depressed and melancholic, but it made Arthur sad to see the world's golden boy with that beautifully crestfallen look on his face. Arthur gave it a moment a thought before he finally slid his hand over and layered his hand over Alfred's; lacing his own long slender fingers between the American's to send all the comfort he could manage through touch.

Alfred's blue eyed gaze glanced sideways at Arthur who only smiled softly and offered his unique brand of silent sympathy. The American smiled back despite his growing depression; grateful for Arthur being with him every single September 11th to offer him arms to be wrapped in and a shoulder to cry on if it became necessary. Arthur was always there every year without fail. It was one of the things Alfred was most thankful for.

The couple held hands as they traveled through the crowded streets of New York where they were nearly packed like sardines in a can along with all the hundreds of others who had all made the pilgrimage to ground zero; the place where nine years ago the Twin Towers stood tall and proud until they collapsed into nothingness under the weight of other's hatred. As the approached the spot where the gaping hole sat like a battle scar on the earth Alfred's grip on Arthur's hand tightened. Arthur's finger ached in the vice like grip of his younger lover's inhuman strength, but he merely grit his teeth and bared it seeing as how to Alfred the Briton's hand was all that was keeping him tied to this world. Even if his hand became broken he would let go of Alfred's- it may have sounded melodramatic, but there was no way the Briton would let go.

Candles were lit, dim in comparison to the still bright day time sunlight, wax slowly oozing down the sides and hardening in the air like scars on its once smooth surface. Pictures of people were framed and strewn all about the shrine that had been erected early that September morning. Papers covered in poems, stories, and letters, were scattered like confetti along with innumerable amounts of flowers that filled the air with a pungent sweet scent. A million and one people were gathered, faces either stoic and crestfallen or blotchy and streaked with tears- heads hung down as if pressed on by the weight of the memory from nine years ago.

Alfred led Arthur expertly through the throngs of people till the couple came to the centre of the shrine where a larger than life American flag waved proudly like a badge of honor over the site of the fallen. Alfred looked up at the flag- his flag- and furrowed his deep blonde brows. "Nine years, huh?" He mumbled to himself as his eyes glistened behind the lenses of his glasses. "Hey Artie…" He called to his lover. The British nation hummed softly and turned his gaze to the American next to him. "You think it'll still hurt this bad even nine hundred years from now?" His voice was dry when he spoke- tears pooled in Alfred's endless blue eyes as he gazed up to the American flag and soon the salty droplets broke from the rims of his eyes and streaked down his cheeks.

That beautifully crest fallen look in those eyes and on those strong jutting features- it made Arthur's heart give a tight squeeze in his chest. The older nation took his lover's hand with both of his own, "Well… no matter how much time passes the memories and the scars will always hurt…" The Briton regrettably admitted. Arthur softly stroked Alfred's hand, "But still… I… I'll try anyway I can to help ease that pain…" Arthur looked up at the American and smiled softly, tears pooling in the corners of his own liquid emerald eyes.

Alfred gazed down at his lover and gave a small smile through the line of tears streaming down his lightly reddened cheeks. "Thanks Artie… that really means a lot to me…" Alfred voice cracked in the middle of his statement as he began to lose him composure. The hulking American whimpered a little and stuck his hand up under his glasses to rub at his itchy eyes. Arthur stood up on his tiptoes and wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck, bringing him down slightly so he could gently hold him and stoke his messy dark blonde hair while whispering comforting sweet nothings.

And so the two of them stood there locked together in an embrace as Alfred quietly cried and Arthur soothed him right smack in the middle of the place where nine years ago their lives had become forever changed. The memories remained fresh and the scars still throbbed with pain while the fire of war still burned ever so slightly in the marrow of their bones. Arthur and Alfred both knew that no matter how much time passed it would always hurt, but… it was so much better when you had a friend beside you.

**Sorry I took so long everybody, but I worked really hard to quickly get this epilogue done for this day in particular seeing as how it's 9/11/10. I'm not entirely sure how the exact 9/11 ceremony went down today seeing as how every year it makes me cry, but I just kind of guessed. **

**My heart truly goes out to those people who died and to those who lost love ones on this day nine years ago. I cannot even begin to imagine the horror they were faced with that day. I may have been young back then, but looking at it now it only makes my heart sad. **

"_**Faces gone yet always remembered. Voices silent yet forever resounding. Lives lost but never forgotten. Never forget, but learn to forgive in honor of the souls who returned home to heaven that fateful September morning. Hands clasped together in unity, heads hung heavy in respect, lips pressed together in silence. For...ever those souls shall live in the heart of America and in the memories of its people. R.I.P." –Me **_

**Thank you very much to everyone who read and supported this story. It truly meant the world to me. You're all the best and I'm so glad you enjoyed my work. **

**PS: Here's a little picture I finished today based on this fanfiction (Making fanart for my own story, I know it's lame but whatever) **

**Heres the link: http : / / jay 1892. deviantart. com/ # / d2yj2ve (Just get rid of all the spaces) **


	11. SUPER SPECIAL IMPORANT ANNOUNCEMENT!

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYY YYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUU GGGGGGUUUUUUUYYYYSSSSS!  
*pant*pant* okay now that that's over...  
Sup everybody! Alright so I have some pretty epically sweet news for those who are fans of "My Firearm is my Friend" 'Dark0shade' on this website wants to make a drawn fan movie adaptation of the fanfiction! *squees and rolls around on the floor with pure epic joy* and she needs voice actors! So get out your godamn microphones and audition or pyscho!America is gonna kill you in your sleep! *eye twitch*  
Here's teh link (just get rid of the spaces) http: / . com / watch?v =VvYoF ENZXDs

DO EET! DO EET! DO EET!


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